When Harry Met Buffy
by Fyrie
Summary: When Buffy goes online in search of jobs, a chatroom proves to interesting to ignore and the next thing she knows, she's chatting to a young man from England...where can this lead? CH. 5 ADDED - 19th Dec. *COMPLETE*
1. First Contact

Chapter One - First Contact

Notes: I don't know what direction this story is going to take for the chapters between beginning and end - all I know is that I got it stuck in my head and want it out of there, so I can actually get some work done for my classes. 

This is set at the beginning of the summer after Season Six, when things have finally calmed down - and it also kind of cuts down the number of characters I can use, which is a good thing, if I decide on a massacre. 

And a crossover with another blatantly obvious fandom. Take this word: Scarph. Take the two last letters. Work out who she's talking to 

Since I haven't written anything for YGTS lately, this is going to be in response to gloveslap 122, wherein as many Buffy titles as possible must feature at some point in the fic. And possibly gloveslap 11, if I'm allowed, cos I honestly can't face writing two fics that are happy-Buff-centric. I'm suddenly grateful that this IS a series. 

_________________________

It was a scorching summer Monday.

Brilliant Californian sunlight blazed through the towering windows of the public library, the air conditioning turned up to maximum to provide at least a little comfort from the heat outside.

Stepping in from the harsh light of day, it took the Slayer's vision several seconds to adjust to the less-than-bright entrance Hall.

Buffy studied the interior of the building, which reminded her vaguely of the library at UC Sunnydale, where she had spent the freshman year, before…everything. The only difference was that this place was on an epic-sized larger scale. White pillars ran down both sides of the buildings, shelves here, there and everywhere in between.

The scent, though, was almost the same as the old school library, albeit with a little less of the...mustiness of the High School's ancient collection of books. Still, it was the kind of smell that reminded you of learning and reading.

Glancing at the notice board pinned between the old-fashioned elevator and the curving wooden staircase that lead to the upper floors, the Slayer scanned her eyes down the choices of departments, wondering what she could distract herself with.

First floor was black: histories and periodicals, whatever they were. Second floor was blue: literature - American and International. Third floor, blue: Georgraphy and History. Fourth red. Fifth green. Sixth...aha!

There, in bold purple print, against the pale grey of the notice, the words 'Computer Centre' stood out.

Having been through the torment of four and a half unsuccessful interviews (staking the interviewer in the fifth one wasn't the best impression to make. She's been ejected by the hysterical staff who didn't seem aware that their illusive - and now kinda dusty - manager was a vampire.) in the past three hours, she was quite happy to look for something online, out of sheer desperation.

Even Doublemeat Palace were reluctant to give her more than the graveyard shifts, which she couldn't accept, because it would mean leaving Dawn home alone all night, while she worked and slayed.

Anything to improve the living conditions that she and Dawn had to cope with at the moment. One day the family-sized house was flooded by burst pipes, the next something was being smashed for slayage.

Still, there was no place like home, even with the now-broken television, re-broken coffee table and several not-so-easy to replace shelf units that a pack of demons had decided to take apart.

Hitting the scarlet triangle-shaped button beside the elevator, she checked her watch, then smiled slightly, remembering that Dawn was at a summer camp for a few weeks, leaving her free until it was time for Patrol.

Pangs of loneliness went through her and she sighed, leaning against the wall, restlessly waiting for the elevator. 

Dawn was away for the summer, with people of her own age group, to try to be normal again. Willow had been taken to England by Giles, to bring her magic under control. Tara was gone, killed by a bullet from Warren.

Only Xander and Anya still remained in Sunnydale and Buffy barely saw either of them anymore. Xander was working hard to keep up payments on his apartment, and Anya returning to her full-time vengeance gig, meaning they were both distracted when she did see either of them.

It was kind of nice when they did have the chance to meet, though, despite the oddness of the situation: A Slayer, a building construction engineer and a vengeance demon. 

It was still a surprise that Anya did stay with them, in Sunnydale.

Apparently, she was as lonely as they were.

The lift whirred to a stop, shaking her out of her mental meanderings, and she stepped in, the cage-like doors rattling shut behind her, then it started to rise, shuddering slightly all the way. 

Buffy braced her hands on the smooth, wooden rails that decorated the dark interior at about waist-level. It wouldn't be a good way for a Slayer to go: Shaken to death by a rickety elevator in a library.

It bumped to a less than gentle stop on the correct floor, the doors squealing open, and Buffy gratefully stepped out onto the polished floor, her legs feeling like they had been substituted with jello.

Making her way a little unsteadily towards the checkpoint, she smiled awkwardly down at the bespectacled woman, who was sitting there, keeping her voice hushed over the tapping of keyboards. 

Behind the desk, row upon row of computers stood on shining wooden tables, their users looking so familiar and confident with the machines that Buffy had an absurd urge to turn and walk straight back out.

However, that would involve the elevator again...

Shuddering, she forced herself to go to the desk.

"Uh...excuse me?" Grey eyes studied the girl over the rims of gold spectacles, deep purple lips pursing as if challenging Buffy to give her a good reason for breaking her concentration. "Uh...hi...could I use the computers?"

"How long would you want?"

Buffy shrugged, feeling helpless. "I-I don't know. It's my first time."

The woman gave her a measured look, then nodded. "Do you have your membership card?" The Slayer nodded, fishing the barely-used card out of her purse and handing it over. "Well, Miss Summers." Standing up, the woman motioned to one of the unused computers. "Would you like me to log you on and give you some lessons about how to access sites of interest?"

"Um...yeah. That would be good." Feeling incredibly stupid, Buffy hurried after the computer woman. "Thanks."

***

"Okay, Buffy, you can do this...you've been putting it off forever and now…it's time to face your greatest enemy…"

After a brief instruction period of about half an hour, the woman in charge of the department had flitted off, leaving the very bemused Slayer sitting in front of her new and very intimidating foe.

The cursor winked at her.

Placing a hand on the plastic mouse, mentally making sure not to crush it in a fit of nervousness, she dragged it to the bar at the top, yelping in surprise when a column slid down from the word 'favourites'.

"Huh?" Scrutinising the list, her eyes alighted on something she had only heard about from Willow. "Chatrooms for everyone?" Yeah, 'jobs' was further down the list, but hello! Chatrooms!

Immediately clicking on the link, the Slayer grinned as a new window popped up on the screen, revealing an epic list of names of chatrooms and places she could visit, all about different topics.

"No...no...no...no...no..." Scanning through the never-ending list, she spotted one that made her chuckle. "Mysticmarvels." Clicking on the description of the chat, she raised her eyebrows.

Surely no one really believed that magical people visited this chatroom?

Clicking the enter button, she was immediately offered a log-in page. A frown wrinkled her nose. What could she be called? Not 'TheSlayer'. No, that was a tiny bit too obvious.

Nightgirl? She tried it and was immediately asked for her password. Someone had apparently registered the name.

Several other names followed the same path and she cast her eyes around for some kind of inspiration. A young woman at the table next to her had a stack of videos and Buffy glanced at the titles, then grinned.

"Summersby." She typed in as she said it aloud. It had enough of her own name to make it her own, but also had enough of a movie-geek feel to it that people would assume she was a fan who couldn't spell.

Hitting the login button, she was immediately catapulted into a busy chat room, where screeds of text skimmed up the screen before she could even catch onto the fact that she was in the room.

There were at least sixty people in the room and she watched text hurtle up the screen helplessly, wondering if there was a knack to actually figuring out what was being said to who and by whom.

However, she did notice someone with the screen name Scarph waved and sent a hello in her general direction.

By the time she worked out how to make a response appear in the chat, the greeting had vanished off the top of the screen.

Apparently a lot of the people seemed to know each other well, which was more than a little intimidating, but she watched the conversations flying back and forth, a few more smatterings of greetings thrown to her between someone having their hair waxed with duct tape and someone else neutering themselves with a brick.

A window popped up with three letters typed in it: A/S/L?

A puzzled look crossed the Slayer's face and she typed back asking what that meant.

Age, Sex, Location, apparently.

Uncertain, she responded that she was old enough, female and somewhere.

Immediately, they demanded if she was single, had pictures and various other less-than-pleasant things. 

"Ew!" Closing the window, Buffy pulled a face. 

Almost immediately, another window popped up.

A/S/L...

She clicked the window shut immediately.

Only for another to pop up. And another. And another.

"God! What is with these people?" She muttered under her breath. 

Closing all of the windows in rapid succession, she was on the verge of abandoning the chatroom, when a new window popped up with two different letters in it, instead of three.

[Scarph: Hi.]

[Summersby: You say A/S/L and be ready to face the consequences! I _will_ hunt you down and hurt you.]

[Scarph: Well, I was just going to say hi on behalf of everyone, to be polite, but it looks like they got to you first...I suppose that means you haven't been in this chat room before?]

Buffy felt a blush rising in her cheeks.

[Summersby: Um...sorry. Just had a few weirdoes asking stuff of the not good kind.]

[Summersby: Oh, and yeah. First time in chatroom. Go me.]

[Scarph: //Laughs\\ Don't worry about them. Most of them are harmless. They just like scaring newbies.]

[Summersby: Newbies? Kinda like Newsies?]

[Scarph: ...]

[Scarph: You've lost me.]

[Summersby: Oh...right. American thing.]

[Scarph: You're American? And guessing by your sn, female, and by your kind of language, youngish...]

[Scarph: (see - I didn't even have to A/S/L you!)]

[Summersby: I could still hunt you down and hit you! //waves fist\\]

[Scarph: ;-) And I'd enjoy it! //wiggles eyebrows\\]

The Slayer released a snort of laughter, earning some dirty looks from the people working in earshot of her. Waving around apologetically, she cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the screen.

[Summersby: So you're as kinky as the rest of the weirdoes in the chat?]

[Scarph: Of course! I just provide the calming influence - the one that lulls innocent newbies like yourself into a false sense of security.]

[Scarph: You didn't tell me if I was right, though.]

[Summersby: All right...don't spread it around too much, but yeah, I'm American.]

[Scarph: As if that would help someone find out who you are - America is a rather big country.]

[Summersby: Yeah, but still...]

[Scarph: //Makes plots with NATO to find out exactly where Summersby lives\\]

[Summersby: Has anyone ever told you that you're crazy?]

[Scarph: Every day. Why? Aren't you? I prefer not to mix with normal people. They scare me.]

[Summersby: Yeah...I think its safe to say I'm as far from not-normal as possible.]

[Scarph: Oh good! I'd hate to have to kill you.]

[Summersby: ...]

[Summersby: I hope you were joking about that...]

There was no response for a while and Buffy frowned. What had she said to make the strange chat-person go quiet?

[Summersby: Uh...are you still there?]

[Scarph: Yes. Still here...just thinking...]

[Summersby: Of?]

[Scarph: What you said. Sounds like you're used to having people threaten you.]

[Summersby: Um...right...]

[Summersby: ...]

[Summersby: Okay - A/S/L?]

[Scarph: What?]

[Summersby: Well, you know where I am and you got my gender right, so I wanna know I'm not talking to a ten foot tall Hell beast of some kind.]

[Scarph: Oh! Right! I'm in Britain...England...you do know where that is, don't you?]

[Summersby: Of course I do! I have a good friend who is English!]

[Scarph: And then you have a strange person like me to counterpoint them...oh, and I'm male. And extravagantly good-looking, but don't spread it around!]

[Summersby: But you're not a Hell beast right? My ex was one of them and trust me - bad things come out of dating Hell beasts.]

[Scarph: And here I was thinking that I'd be the one doing the scaring...you were talking metaphorically, weren't you?]

Buffy paused, her hands hovering over the keyboard. She definitely wasn't about to say that she was speaking literally, in case she sent him running a mile, but she didn't want to tell him a lie...although she couldn't quite figure why.

[Scarph: Silence. Hmm. Something tells me that isn't entirely good. Bad split?]

[Summersby: Could say that. Situation of tough love and tough break-up…]

There was a long silence and Buffy fidgeted in her seat.

[Summersby: So...extravagantly good-looking?]

[Scarph: I timed you there. Seventy eight seconds to ask about the looks.]

[Summersby: If you could see me now, you would be afraid. I'm giving you the glare only my sister gets.]

[Scarph: And I'm sure you look cute doing it too.]

[Summersby: Doing...it?]

[Summersby: ;-)]

[Scarph: And you thought that lot were bad! //blushes\\ I'm just an innocent little boy here and you're being rude!]

[Summersby: I wasn't rude at all! You can't prove a thing!] 

[Summersby: And you're a little boy? I don't believe that. Something tells me you're probably a big boy.]

[Summersby: Oh God...]

[Scarph: ROTFLMAO!]

[Summersby: Let's just pretend I didn't say that.]

[Scarph: Let's not! I like this game!]

[Summersby: What's ROTFLMAO anyway?]

[Scarph: Trying to change the subject, are you? And it means rolling On The Floor Laughing My Arse Off. I only use it, because you can't actually see me falling off my chair in hysterics here.]

[Summerby: It wasn't that funny!]

[Scarph: Oh? ;-)]

[Summersby: All right, maybe it was...]

[Summersby: ANYWAY, how old are you? I don't wanna be accused of corrupting a minor.]

[Scarph: Don't worry about that - I think I'm as corrupted as one person can get.]

[Summersby: Don't make me ASL you again!]

[Scarph: Dear Lord! Not the ASL! I'm quivering with fear!]

[Summersby: Okay. How about this? I'll pout!]

[Summersby: //Pouts\\]

[Scarph: Damn, you're good! I relent! I'm twenty-two in a few months.]

[Summersby: Young AND good-looking? Next, you'll be telling me you're rich as well...]

[Scarph: Well, I don't want to be one the brag...]

[Scarph: ;-)]

[Summersby: You remind me of my English friend. I don't get you.]

[Scarph: Get me what?]

[Summersby: You. I don't get you. I don't understand you.]

[Scarph: Funny. I was sure we were talking the same language...]

[Summersby: Haha. I mean the way you speak. Your sense of humor.]

[Scarph: What can I say? We're superior in every way.]

[Summersby: Do you want me to stop talking to you? I could do it...]

[Scarph: I'll behave!]

[Summersby: Good boy.]

[Scarph: You won't hunt me down if I ask you things?]

[Summersby: Depends on what it is.]

[Scarph: You have a sister?]

[Summersby: Yeah. Just a sister, thank God!]

[Scarph: That bad? I'm an only child, so I don't know what it's like.]

[Summersby: I guess she could always be worse, but its just kinda hard looking after her myself, especially when she keeps on sneaking off and doing normal teenage things and part of me wants to do them with her.]

[Summersby: Sorry - venting.]

[Scarph: Vent on. I don't mind, honestly. And you raise her yourself? What about your parents?]

Pausing, Buffy worried on her lower lip. 

How much should she tell this faceless human or possibly subterranean creature on the other end of a computer connection? After all, there was that problem with the computers that had made High School hard to deal with. 

The whole "I Robot, You Jane" romance thing that Willow had got sucked into had wigged her out big time.

[Scarph: If it helps, I don't have any. My mum and dad both died when I was a baby.]

[Summersby: Oh...I'm sorry.]

[Scarph: Like I said, I was a baby. I don't even remember them. All I know is that they were killed by death.]

[Summersby: Huh?]

[Scarph: Murdered by a man, whose nickname was all about Death. He was killed himself, last year.]

[Summersby: Again with the sorry :-(]

[Scarph: Hey, it's all right. I can talk about it. I'm not about to start crying on your... er...your message box...thing...]

[Summersby: I thought I had things bad. My dad just lives in another town. We don't see him much anymore, since my mom died.] 

[Summersby: It was about a year and a half ago, now. She had a brain tumour. I found the body.]

[Scarph: ...]

[Scarph: God, I'm sorry! I feel like such an insensitive idiot now!]

[Summersby: Well, you did ask and since you told me about yours, so it's only fair I told you about mine.]

[Scarph: But I didn't want to bring up upsetting things!]

[Summersby: I'm not upset. Its just...different to talk to somebody who knows what its like.]

[Scarph: Well, not exactly...]

[Summersby: Looks at us. We're getting all broody and stuff. Can we try talking about something not of the grim and depressing kind? I'm really not in the mood for having nightmares.]

[Scarph: Agreed.]

[Scarph: So...what do we talk about?]

[Summersby: What do you do?]

[Scarph: Well, I don't know if you'd really call it a job...]

***

"Excuse me, Miss Summers."

Pulling her eyes away from the glowing screen, at the intervention of a voice on her consciousness, Buffy looked blearily up at the librarian, who had a slightly amused look on her face. "Um...yeah?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to leave the computer."

"Huh? But I haven't been on that long!" 

"Actually, you have been. The library closes in five minutes." The librarian nodded towards the round clock on the wall, but Buffy's eyes went past the clock, to the window, a squeak of surprise escaping her. 

"When did it get late?"

"About an hour ago."

"Oh crap!" Turning to her chatbox, Buffy hastily typed an apology to the man she called 'Scarph', explaining that the librarian wanted her to leave because the library was closing and she had to get home.

[Summersby: Can we talk again some time?]

[Scarph: Course! Same time, same place?]

[Scarph: Did I mention that it's five in the morning, here?]

[Summersby: You're going to be wrecked tomo...er...today. Go! Sleep! I order it!]

[Scarph: I hear and obey, Mistress. :-P See you tomorrow, if you make it!] 

[Scarph has logged off]

Rubbing her aching eyes as she stood up from the computer desk, her legs stiff from sitting still for so long, Buffy had the overwhelming urge to pee in large quantities, her bladder suddenly reminding her of it's existence.

"Um...excuse me...do you have a bathroom I could use?"

"Towards the elevator, take a left at my desk and it's the second door on the right."

Thankful for Slayer stamina, Buffy started to run in that direction, but groaned and had to slow to a walk, which rapidly became a waddle, as she tried to hold on for as long as possible, making a mental note to take potty breaks next time.

Next time?

As she entered the bathroom, she found herself reluctantly admitting that she would - undoubtedly - be back tomorrow. If only to chat with Scarph, again, because he was just too nice to talk to.

Type to. Whatever.

Five minutes later, when she - jello-legged - walked out the front door of the library, she inhaled a long, deep breath of Sunnydale air, wondering briefly about what she would do to pay for her sister's upkeep, while also pondering when she could get online the next day.

All right, there was one interview at twelve noon and Xander had said he would look into getting her back on his crew, but other than that, she didn't have any vague hopes of employment.

Unless daddy decided to start coughing up the alimony payments.

A wicked grin crossed her face.

Well, that took care of the money side of things for a while, at least.

Now, for getting online and talking to Scarph again...

Loosening the stake she always had taped to her back, as a precaution, she gripped it securely in her hand. Perhaps now was the right time to consider getting internet access at home...

A vampire lurched out of the shadow and she dusted it, distracted.

Well, she did have that computer mom had used...

All she needed was a phone line...

Or maybe the cable connection they had for the TV...

Dodging another attack by a demon of a gooey and sticky variety, she snapped it's neck and started to drag to body into the woods nearby, to dispatch it, already contemplating arranging the connection and getting herself an e-mail address.

Time to bring the Slayer out of the Dark Ages.


	2. Not Of The Good

Chapter Two - Not of the Good

Notes: Well, one thing I do know about this is that this is going to be a baby, its not going to be a big or long series, but I want to finish it. I'm trying to keep it under four chapters. Desperately. After all, with a dozen other series standing at 20 chs. each, can you blame me?

________________________

"Buff, you really are spending far too much time on that thing."

The Slayer looked around from her computer to Xander, who was sitting on the couch, watching the late night television. "You never used to lecture Wills when she was on the computer all the time."

"When I was what?" Willow asked, walking through from the dining room area, a bowl of popcorn in her hands.

The witch had just returned to Sunnydale with the end of the summer with Giles' comforting assurance that she was going to be all right now, although she had been very hesitant.

After all, only three months earlier, she had killed her girlfriend's murderer, tried to end the world and her eyes still held the haunted look that she had borne since the day her lover, Tara, had died in front of her.

For a brief time after she had returned, she had subconsciously slipped into invisible-girl mode because she was so uncomfortable about seeing her friends after everything she had done when she was bad.

She still had to make amends for it all, but when she had found out her friends did care and weren't scared of her, it had helped.

Since then, she, Xander and Buffy had become as close as they had been in their High school years, back in the age of innocence, or that was what it felt like. They were all single, all able to admit that they were a fool for love to some extent of another, and - although they would never admit it - were glad things were the way they were now.

Not with the bad and emotional break-ups, but because of the friendship.

All of them had missed it.

It was almost as if they had come to wish that none of the past six years had actually happened: as if the prom had never happened; homecoming forgotten; but also the Harvest through to the Initiative crisis; then Buffy versus Dracula, the mess with Glory and all the badness that had ensued.

After all, none of them could say that past six years had been entirely happy. 

Yes, there had been phases of the good, but in the last year, things had just gone in a rapidly downward spiral, each of them feeling that they were holding the weight of the world on their shoulders at some point.

It seemed, they had come to realise mournfully, that they were all doomed, trapped in a life serial of bad girls and guys who would never bring anything but stress, brief spatters of romance, then heartbreak.

Plus, there was Dawn, who had returned from summer camp. She was the only permanent shift in the balance, fitting neatly into the place that had been occupied by various people over the years: Cordelia, Oz, Angel, Spike, Tara...

All of them were gone now.

Tara was dead. Spike had vanished the previous year, never seen again. Angel was still working for redemption in Los Angeles. Oz was...well, no one knew just where Oz was except that he was there. Cordelia was apparently a seer in L.A. with Angel.

Somehow, it seemed impossible to have a long-term friendship or relationship of any kind on the Hellmouth. 

Yes, Anya was still about, but she had started to drift away, gradually.

Leaving the original trio, plus Dawn, all living in the Summers house.

Xander had been unable to keep his expensive apartment, so he had moved into the Summers home in the middle of the summer, refurbishing the basement to make himself a cosy den down there.

They were more than a family now, they knew.

They were all the others had.

Which definitely explained Xander being concerned about Buffy, when she spent so much time on the internet, between her slaying sessions, classes at college which she had restarted and training. 

Luckily, her father's alimony cheques had started to come in, so she wasn't exactly struggling financially.

"Buffy spending all her time on the computer, Wills," Xander replied, nodding towards Buffy at the desk. "Tell her it's not of the good!"

"Um...kinda not a good judge, since I spend all my time on the net, since I'm back as research girl," Willow said with a faint smile, as she sat down next to her friend. "Do you research and stuff on there?"

"Um..."

"That would be a big no, huh?" Xander looked like he was going to start lecturing her, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Willow's lap.

"I kinda found a chat room and got talking to a guy from England," Buffy mumbled, turning her eyes back to the screen and hoping her blush wasn't as deep as she felt it was. "He's real sweet."

"Moloch," Willow coughed loudly.

"Will! He's not a creepy demon-guy!" Buffy exclaimed. "I talk to him as the real me and he talks back the same way."

"How do you know?"

"He...he...uh...said so."

Xander raised his eyes to the ceiling. "And that stands right up there with Angel saying he's a good vampire always..."

"Xander!" Both girls cried out indignantly and Willow punched his arm. "That was mean!"

"It's true, though! He could be a bad guy!"

"He wouldn't lie to me!"

"And you know this how?"

Buffy looked at the screen, then back at her friend. "I...I just know," she replied defensively. "We've been talking for three months and I don't think even he would be that good at acting," She raised a hand and pointed it at Xander. "And don't you talk to me about picking bad people, Mister-I-liked-an-Inca-Mummy-Girl and Mister I-almost-got-my-head-eaten-for-sex-because-I-was-a-teacher's-pet! And you say I'm out of my mind..."

"Hey!" Xander protested. "I'm a new man now! I would say no such thing!"

Willow shook her head, laughing. "So, Buffy, what's he like, if you're so sure he's not a bad guy?"

Typing a response, Buffy looked across at her friends. "He's a year older than me and he's English," she replied, mock-glaring at Xander for the horrified expression he pulled. "He's real funny and sweet. I don't know what he looks like but I bet he's a real computer geek."

"You haven't asked for a photograph?" Scrambling to her feet, the red-haired witch hurried over to the computer. "Go on! Ask him! Ask him to send a picture!"

"Will, you genius!" 

"You never thought to ask him?"

Buffy grinned sheepishly. "Um..."

[Summersby: Hey, can I ask you something?]

[Scarph: You know you can.]

[Scarph: And no, I don't do the business for less than fifty quid with someone I don't find attractive. Unless they have a nice arse.]

[Summersby: Ack! TMI!]

[Scarph: //laughs\\ So what are you wanting to ask, if it's not that?]

[Summersby: Do you have a picture of you? My friends are curious about you.]

[Scarph: Picture of me...hmm...give me a moment.]

Buffy looked up at Willow, who was resting her chin on top of the Slayer's head reading through the rest of the conversation. "So, what do you think of him? Apart from the fact he's an embarrassing pervert?"

"I guess he seems kinda...okay..."

"And not at all demony," Buffy grinned.

[Scarph: E-mailed it.]

[Summesby: Thanks!]

[Scarph: I hope you're really looking forward to seeing me in all my naked, fat and hairy glory...]

[Summersby: ...]

[Scarph: //smirks\\]

[Summersby: Tell me you're joking...]

[Scarph: And ruin the shock impact? Never!]

Shaking her head, Buffy opened her e-mail inbox as soon as a small window popped up, telling her she had mail. It opened into an e-mail entitled 'Beauty and the Beasts' and contained a single line of text: Here's a couple of photos. The big one if of me and my two friends. I'm the one at the bottom left. The other is me on my lonesome.

The picture was apparently a large one, slowly downloading into a window and Buffy was looking at it nervously. She knew vaguely what he friend looked like, but she had never dared to imagine him as anything other than good looking.

A head came into sight. The face was that of a laughing man, with a thick mass of brilliant orange hair and a wide smile on his face. Brown eyes were glinting with laughter and he was...was he wearing a bathrobe? 

It looked like a bathrobe.

Or at least, something blue...maybe a sheet with sleeves...

[Summersby: The pictures downloading. Is the guy Ron?]

[Scarph: That's him. The girl beside him is Hermione.]

[Scarph: I still can't believe they're actually...a couple...]

[Summersby: It's kind of like Xander and Willow were...only without spikes through guts and everything.]

[Scarph: I don't know...spikes in guts might come into it soon...if he touches another one of her books, heaven help him...]

Buffy chuckled, looking back at the picture. She knew his friends almost as well as he knew of hers. Their hours of conversation had found a strange parallel between their close-knit groups.

She had Willow, the smart one, and Xander, the funny one, with Dawn as a kind of decorating piece who tended to crush on her sibling's friend. He had Hermione, the smart one, and Ron, the funny one, and Ron's younger sister, Ginny, who seemed to crush on him.

Of course, he didn't know that she was the Vampire Slayer. He just assumed she was a student, struggling to raise a sister. She also knew that was keeping something similar from her, because he never really elaborated on exactly where he worked and what he did.

Apparently, he was some kind of teaching assistant and worked with his Godfather's best friend at the school he had attended. He repeatedly had remarked on how dull the current pupils were, compared to him, his friends and his godfather.

He had also informed her that in a week, he would be going back to the school he taught at and they didn't provide internet access, so he wouldn't be able to contact her, except by normal mail.

It had been a depressing slap in the face for the Slayer who was starting to get very attached to the nice man on the other end of her internet connection. Apparently, he felt just as bad about it, so they were talking as much as they could before he had to lose his connection.

The picture was half-loaded and Hermione's face had just come into sight. She did kind of resemble Willow, or at least had a touch of the old Willow, the Willow who was utterly exasperated by the fact that she and Xander wouldn't study enough.

Buffy's fingers drummed impatiently on the desk.

[Summersby: Couldn't you have...I dunno...shrunk the picture?]

[Scarph: When I can annoy you so much more by forcing you to be patient? ;-) I don't think so.]

[Summersby: Evil little man.]

[Scarph: Of course!]

Above her, she heard Willow laughing. "You really have a way with the guys, Buff."

"Its kind of nice to be able to speak to someone like that," Buffy answered. It had been too long since she could be comfortably casual with people, instead of running around and hiding her identity.

With the computer as a middleman, she could be herself without fear of her identity erupting into the public spectrum.

Her eyes went back to the picture, as a couple of tufts of dark hair became visible at the bottom of the large picture. As he had mentioned, his hair was black and stood up in all directions.

His forehead came into sight and she could see a thin, lightening-shaped red scar just above his right brow. The top of his glasses appeared and his face was just starting to show, when the window pinged.

[Scarph: Lalalala...]

[Summersby: And you said I needed to be patient!]

[Scarph: //smirks\\]

[Scarph: I was distracting you, so the picture could open without you seeing it.]

Willow was laughing softly as Buffy went back to the other window, muttering rude things under her breath in the direction of her British friend, but her words trailed off as she got a look...

"Oh my God..."

"That's him?" Willow gasped.

Buffy managed to blink.

It wasn't exactly a high-quality picture, but whoa!

When he had said extravagantly good-looking, he hadn't been joking.

Squatting down in front of his two friends, he was looking up at them and was laughing at the same thing as Ron, his smile one of those wonderfully infectious ones that made even the most surly person smile back.

Green eyes twinkled behind glasses, which didn't seem to make him look at all geeky. In fact, they actually looked like he would be naked without them. And Buffy definitely went scarlet at that thought.

Scrolling down carefully, her mouth fell open at the next picture.

While the first one was a little...fuzzy, the second was perfect.

In form and in content.

It looked like someone had caught him in a playful mood. He was looking up at the camera from beneath his fringe, a naughty little smile on his lips, his brilliant emerald eyes sparkling with amusement.

But, she noticed dazedly, his eyes did seem to be shadowed by something...

She recognised the expression, because she had seen it far too many times. She saw it every morning when she looked in the mirror. She had seen it in Willow's eyes, months before. She had seen it in Faith's eyes, when they had been enemies, in Angel's, whenever he had looked at her.

Clearly Harry wasn't as simple a character as she had assumed.

And hello hotness!

She was captivated.

Utterly captivated.

It took several pings from her message box to get her attention.

[Scarph: Hellllooooooooooooooooo?] 

[Scarph: //drops a pin\\]

[Scarph: Am I that bad?]

[Scarph: //pouts\\]

[Scarph: Nobody loves me...]

[Scarph: Ahem...? Nobody loves me - need words of reassurance? And hugs! Hugs are good!]

[Scarph: HELLOOOOOOOOOO!!]

[Scarph: //sniffles\\]

[Scarph: //looks around to see if anyone is paying any attention, THEN sniffles some more to get pity\\]

[Summersby: Whoa...]

[Scarph: She LIVES!!]

[Scarph: I thought my ugly mug had killed you there!]

[Summersby: Pretty close guess. You didn't tell me you were so cute!]

[Scarph: I don't do cute! I do butch and macho!]

[Summersby: Uh...huh...]

Buffy went back to the picture, then bit on her lip and looked up at Willow, who was staring at the picture with a similarly impressed expression. Her eyes flicked to Xander, who seemed absorbed in his TV show.

"Will, do you think...I've been wanting to meet this guy all summer..."

The red head gnawed on her lower lip, then nodded. "He seems okay and if he isn't, you can always make with the slayage..."

[Summersby: Harry?]

[Scarph: Yup?]

[Summersby: Would you be able to come over here before you go back to school?]

[Summersby: And no, it isn't just cos you're cute...]

[Scarph: We did discuss it a few days ago, didn't we? //grins\\ And of course you don't want to get your hands on my juicy little arse. That couldn't be the reason. Not at all. You just ask after I send you a picture of me. Hmm. What a coincidence.]

[Summersby: //glares\\ You didn't give me a straight answer last week. Gimme one now. Would you be able to come over to America? I want a chance to smack you upside the head in person.]

[Scarph: //laughs\\ I asked my Godfather about it and he thinks I'm barking mad to want to meet up with someone I met on the internet. I would just need to know how to get to you.]

Buffy blinked.

Yes, they had discussed it before, but she hadn't imagined him getting a positive answer that quickly.

"Ho boy..."

[Summersby: You'd have to fly into Los Angeles airport. L-A-X. I'm pretty sure we could come down and pick you up.]

[Scarph: Just looking up flights...found one...could be there by tomorrow at noon, if I leave now, for a few days.]

[Summersby: //blinks\\ That fast?]

[Scarph: Changed your mind already?]

[Summersby: No! Not at all! You really want to come and meet me?]

[Scarph: Well, I have to see for myself if you're a hairy yeti of a woman, since you refuse to send me pictures.]

[Summersby: Pig.]

[Scarph: That's me! So, tomorrow, LAX at about noon-ish, if all goes well?]

[Summersby: You can't have booked a flight that fast!]

[Scarph: Skilled fingers //waggles brows\\]

[Summersby: You're really coming over?]

[Scarph: Really really.]

[Scarph: How will I recognise you?]

[Summersby: //grins\\ Look for the short blonde with the red head.]

[Scarph: Right. Short, blonde yeti woman with red-haired companion...got it noted.]

[Scarph: I better go and get packed and to the airport and all that. See you tomorrow! And if you're not there, I'll cry!]

[Summersby: Don't worry, Harry. I'll be there. I kind of want to see what you're like in person too. And I still owe you a slap upside the head.]

[Scarph: Rowr, tiger! //grins\\ I'll see you tomorrow.]

[Summersby: Yeah...bye for now!]

[Scarph has logged off]

Buffy blinked at the screen.

"Oh...my...God..."

"Uh huh..."

"What's up?"

Buffy and Willow both turned to look at Xander, who was still munching cheerfully on the bowl of popcorn. "Um...Harrys coming to visit before he goes back to the school he teaches at..."

"I thought he goes back next week. He won't have time..."

"He arrives tomorrow at noon..."

"WHAT?!?"

Buffy stood up. "I think I should go and tidy up..."

"Where is he going to sleep?"

"Couch, I guess...or my bed."

"BUFFY!"

Buffy went scarlet. "I mean my bed while I sleep on the couch!" she protested.

"Yeah," Willow grinned wryly. "A hottie like that, in your bed, alone..."

"Hottie?" Xander raised his eyes skywards. "Buffy, remember the last time you liked a guy because he was hot? One, Angel. Big bad vampire. Two, Riley. Went for vampire suck-jobs. Three, Spike. Do I need to say more?"

"At least I'm consistent," she offered, before hurrying out of the room and up the stairs to go and check she wasn't getting any zits.

***

On the other side of the world, Harry Potter was staring at his computer screen in shock. What on earth had he just done?

He, the famed defeater of You-Know-Who, Assistant Teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin First Class, had just agreed to meet a complete stranger in a strange place, in America.

No, not a complete stranger.

He and Buffy had been talking daily for three months.

Usually, for about six hours a day, at least.

Still, he knew that there was something she definitely hadn't told him about her. It was something in the way she acted, when they talked online. There was a sadness in her that he could sense, but she wouldn't talk about it.

The first time he had spoken to her, so many days ago, he had liked her instantly.

It was rare in the chatroom, where they had bumped into one another.

Many of the people who appeared in it were the usual kinds of weirdoes that were found on the internet, but she did seem genuinely nice and he took it that she wasn't about to murder him in revenge for the defeat of You-Know-Who.

At least, he hoped she wouldn't.

After all, she didn't seem to know about the wizarding world.

To all intents and purposes, she seemed like a nice, genuine, normal muggle girl. It was a refreshing change to have someone to talk to, who didn't gasp, bow and back away from him at the first mention of his name.

And she was a great person.

For the first time in what felt like years, someone had made him smile. And then laugh again. He had forgotten how to laugh, but she had reminded him, with her sweet, quirky nature and tendency to accidentally pun at random moments.

He really did like her and hoped she liked him too.

Although, again, the wizarding...stuff would take a lot of explaining.

Pushing his seat back from the computer that Sirius had got for him, a special, muggle treat to make up for all the years that Harry had been with the Dursleys and barricaded from Dudley's computer.

It was a nice addition for his already comfortably cluttered bedroom in the fairly small house they lived in a few miles from Hogwarts. Standing up, Harry crossed his bedroom's wooden floor to flop down on the bed that stood against the opposite wall, under the window.

The morning sunlight was pouring in on him and he knew he looked a state, in his scruffy grey dressing gown, boxer shorts and a pair of black, furry, dog-head-shaped slippers, his joke birthday present from his former guardians. 

After all, it was only five o'clock in the morning, nine o'clock the night before in Buffy-time, and he knew he ought to get some more sleep, but it wasn't necessary unless he wanted to. He could come and go as he pleased for the most part, sleeping, eating and doing anything at whatever time he felt like.

He liked his home with Sirius and Remus. His godfather and the werewolf were two of his late father's best friends and he loved them both dearly, but he knew they would still have his guts for garters if they knew what he was planning.

"Yes, Sirius," he imagined saying to his Godfather. "I'm going to America to meet a girl I met through a random chatroom and she doesn't seem to be a witch, but I think I've gone and got a crush on her and I want to see if she's as nice in the flesh as she is in the text..."

A crush.

That was putting it mildly.

While he had never discussed anything regarding the wizarding world with Buffy, they had talked about almost everything else under the sun and had found that they did seem to have a lot in common.

Their choices of closest friends were amusingly similar, their love-lives equally disastrous although he hadn't been able to detail too much in case he gave the wizarding world away, their families broken, their disregard for the rules too similar, their lack of studiousness legend.

He liked her.

It wasn't like the teenage physical attraction he had felt for Cho Chang for three years at Hogwarts, simply because she was pretty and good on a broom. It definitely wasn't the brief, post-battle-relief fling he had had with Ginny.

It was something different.

It...

It was like Ron and Hermione.

The pair of them were such good friends that the step up to being lovers had been an inevitable transition.

Harry already felt so much closer to Buffy than he had to anyone, with the possible exceptions of his two best friends. He didn't know what she looked like, but he found himself thinking that he didn't really care, either.

Strange, he mused, for a man to think with his brains instead of his knob.

She could be a six-foot-eight gorilla woman with a penchant for wearing sequins and stilettos and he knew he would still find her wonderful. He sincerely hoped that it wasn't the case, but if the worst came to the worst, he could face it.

Harry groaned with the realisation, which had come with that thought.

There could only be one reason that he didn't mind that his latest best friend would look like a gorilla.

He loved her.

He loved the silly little Summersby on the other end of his internet connection.

All he knew about her was her forename, her date of birth, a little of her appearance, her favourite music, foods, colours, things to do, places to go, her friends names and ages and her family situation and...

Well, apparently, he knew everything about her except her surname and that one big, gloomy secret that seemed to be overhanging everything.

And if she turned out to be a dark sider...

"You are in so much trouble, Potter," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Rolling back onto his feet, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the wall and grimaced. Well, he was going to have plenty of time to wash, shave, clean himself up and pack a little, before apparating there.

Once again, he was eternally grateful for the wonder of apparation.

***

"C'mon, Buffy!"

"But I need to change!"

"You've changed five times already!"

The Slayer appeared at the top of the flight of stairs, wearing a cream blouse and chocolate trousers, a three-quarters length matching jacket over it. "But I don't want to look too formal..."

"You look great, Buffy! If we don't leave now, we're going to be late!"

Casting another glance down the hall towards her bedroom, Buffy bit on her lip, wondering if she might be safer wearing her original choice of the black-pants-red-shirt combination.

"Come on!" Dawn had run up the staircase, grabbing her arm. "You don't want to leave your hot online boyfriend waiting at the airport so someone else can snatch him before we get there!"

Dawn had been informed of the impending arrival of Buffy's 'friend' at breakfast and she had immediately decided that the two had been secret lovers forever and a day. She was taking great pleasure in teasing her sister. 

"But..."

"No more buts!"

They Slayer allowed herself to be dragged out to the car, where Xander was waiting impatiently for them and had been for the last half hour, looking very cynical and grouchy about the whole affair.

"Okay...I'm ready..."

"And you look great," Willow said, as Buffy and Dawn slid into the back seat. "He's gonna be blown away."

"No! No blowing away! He's just a friend!" Dawn and Willow gave her identical looks. "Okay, a very cute friend with a gorgeous smile and eyes, but he's still just a friend, okay?"

"You know what they say...its not just a river in Egypt..." Dawn sing-songed.

"Shut up," Buffy mumbled, going a fetching shade of scarlet.

***

Apparating into a toilet cubicle in Los Angeles airport - and luckily avoiding landing in an occupied one - Harry carefully opened the door and eased out into the lavatories, wondering if anyone would notice that he had just appeared.

Apparently no one had.

After checking the floor plan for the whole airport through the internet and some magic, he had located the best place to arrive, so it still looked like he had come in on one of the last flights, without the trouble of going through passport control.

Hurrying across the floor to the mirror, he ran a hand through his unruly black hair, covering over his scar in case there happened to be any witches or wizards about. He really wasn't in the mood for being tackled by a rabid fan girl again.

It had happened the last time he was in Diagon Alley and he still went scarlet at the memory of it.

Part of him wished someone else had been the one to destroy Voldemort. It got a bit too much, everyone knowing who he was, everyone staring at him as if he were some kind of radiant, supreme being.

He was just Harry.

Not many people remembered that.

To them, he was the Boy-Who-Lived-and-destroyed-You-Know-Who.

He just wanted to be Harry again.

Shaking his head with a rueful half smile, he made his way out of the bathroom and into the swarming crowds of people, a rucksack slung onto his shoulder.

The brilliant, blinding sunlight flooded into the halls, a blur of faces and colours washing passed him. Joining in with them, his eyes darted here and there, trying to take in everything around him.

He had no clue how he was going to recognise Buffy.

Yes, she would have a red head with her, but surely there had to be more than one red head in the Los Angeles airport?

"There he is!" he heard a girl's voice call out, loudly. "BUFFY! I SEE HIM!"

Looking around for the source of the voice, around the crowded halls, he saw a tall, slim, dark-haired teenager waving wildly at him. Just to her left, a red-haired girl was standing and beside her...

Harry's heart leapt in shock.

Hazel eyes were staring back at him. His tongue nervously moistened his lips and he swallowed hard, as his feet carried him forward of their own accord towards this small, delicate, beautiful woman who was gazing up at him out of tragic eyes.

Stopping in front of her, barely even aware of the two others beside them, Harry couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her face. "Would I be right to think that you're Buffy?" he asked.

"Uh..." She blinked at him. "Uh...yeah...and you...you're Harry."

He felt a smile lifting his lips. "You're very astute," he said, holding out a hand to her, although he really wanted to hug her, his tiny and pretty little friend with the sad eyes and the cute nose.

She was nothing like he had imagined, and yet, she was.

So small, dainty and fragile looking. She looked like a flower that he could crush in one hand, her eyes haunted by something so tragic that he wished he could just protect her from the world.

Her small hand slipped into his larger one and both of them gasped at the contact, but she didn't pull away. Her fingers just seemed to...fit between his.

"Would it be rude of me to hug you?" he asked carefully.

"Um..."

"That would be a BIG no on the rudeness," the brunette translated eagerly. "Hug her. She doesn't mind."

"Dawn..." Buffy managed to say in a chastising tone of voice, then smiled slightly at him. "Sure, we can hug."

Lowering his rucksack to the ground, Harry bent a little – after all, she only reached his shoulder – and slid his arms around her, pulling her against his chest and burying his face in her honey-coloured hair.

Her hair smelt delicious, like jasmine and honeysuckle, the soft warmth radiating from her, reminding him just how long it had been since he had touched anyone, or wanted to be touched.

He felt her rise on her toes, felt her arms wrap around his neck and hug him back, her warm, soft cheek pressing against the side of his neck. He could feel her breath rushing over the hairs on the back of his neck, raising goosebumps on his skin.

Her breathing was as staggered as his was, hot, sweet and rapid, almost as quick as his pulse was going. She was as nervous as he was, yet...yet she was hugging him as much as he was hugging her. 

Damn...

Why couldn't she have been a hairy gorilla woman who he would be able to walk away from without feeling like he had to take her with him?

Sirius was going to kill him.

He'd gone and fallen in love, completely, head over heels, and he knew, without question, that there was no way he was giving it up.

Yep, it was settled.

Sirius was going to kill him.


	3. So

Chapter Three - So...

Notes: Let me say for the record that I dislike Buffy and Harry as characters, so, by rights, I should despise this story, but - dammit - I like it! *scrubs herself with acid* I feel so dirty! And, herein, we have Xander's scepticism, Willow's lingering dark side, Buffy and Harry's secrets and Dawn's recognition. 

Also, I've changed the end of S6 - no soul for Spikeypoos. That's just boring. He's just a mean, bad vampire in my world :)

____________________________

"So you're Harry, huh?"

"Xander, be nice."

With Buffy standing beside him, also flanked by Willow and Dawn, Harry gave the dark-haired younger man a careful smile. 

"Um, yes," he replied cautiously, remembering what Buffy had told him about how protective Xander was of his friends, especially Buffy. Extending a hand, he hoped he didn't sound like a terrified teenager, about to ask a possessive father for permission to date his daughter. "I've heard a lot about you."

Xander's dark eyes scanned over him, as if taking measure of him, and he shook Harry's hand. His tanned skin was rough and callused, speaking of hard work and lots of it. His fingers briefly gripped Harry's in silent warning with enough force to make Harry wince. "Nice to meet you."

"Insincere much?" Dawn snickered from behind Harry, who couldn't help smiling a little. The dark-haired teenager was cheeky, mouthy and looked like she would be good fun to have around.

She had insisted on hugging him after Buffy, although Willow, the red-haired girl had hung back, gazing at him. Like Buffy, there was such pain and sadness in her eyes that he wondered if there was something...wrong with the town they lived in.

Even Xander, despite his casual appearance, had eyes that looked like they had seen Hell and beyond.

"Dawnie," Buffy reprimanded.

"So, how long are you staying, Harry?" Xander ignored the girls, his eyes holding Harry's green ones. 

Harry shifted slightly, shuffling his feet. He really felt like he was being measured up by a protective father and it was rather unnerving, especially since Xander was almost a year younger than him.

"Just a-a few days, I suppose."

The younger man studied him for a moment longer, then jerked his head in the direction of the swarming car park. "Let's get outta here," he suggested. "It's already crazy out there."

Without waiting for an answer, he set off, the group following. Harry dubiously looked down at Buffy, who gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," she said to him. "He's always like that."

"Yeah," Dawn added, grinning widely up at him. "Especially when Buffy l..." Her sister's hand clapped across Dawn's mouth, the girl looking offended. She continued to mumble behind Buffy's hand, Buffy flashing a glare at her.

"When Buffy what?" Harry inquired, looking down at her.

"Nothing," Buffy muttered under her breath, looking at her boots, her face flushing crimson. "C'mon. We better catch up with Xander."

Harry's eyebrows ascended towards his hairline as Buffy, dragging Dawn after her and apparently lecturing her younger sister, hurried after Xander, leaving Harry to walk with Willow.

He knew Willow was a wicca, which was some kind of 'natural' witch, who followed some kind of...a religion, if he understood right, but he didn't know what it meant or how it viewed magic.

"So..."

"So..."

Walking side-by-side with the red-haired girl, he glanced down at her, to find her looking up at him. "Who are you?" she asked, before he could look away, her moss-green eyes boring into his.

"I-I...what do you mean?"

Willow was staring up at him now, not just looking. Staring. Her eyes seemed to be burning in her pale face. "Who are you?" she repeated, never taking her eyes from his, her expression deadly serious. "What do you want with her?"

"I-I-I'm her friend," he replied uncomfortably. All right, Buffy had mentioned that her friends were protective of her, but this was starting to be a little...frightening. "I-I don't know what you mean, if you don't mean that."

One side of her mouth lifted slightly. "Good answer," she remarked. "Now, let me ask you something, Harry. Did she tell you what I am? Did she tell you how powerful I can be?"

Harry shook his head, unable to reply. A thrill of fear rippled down his spine, the hairs on his forearms rising. There was something in her voice, an edge it hadn't had when he greeted her, a diamond-hard core.

"Buffy's my family," Willow said, her voice low and steady. "You hurt her and I will hurt you. I don't care what happens to me anymore. Nothing worse could happen, but you do anything, anything, to hurt her and you will suffer."

Harry's mouth felt bone-dry.

When he had looked at the diminutive red head for the first time, he had thought she could have passed for a Weasley, with flaming hair, creamy-white skin and a shy, sad smile, but now...

Now, he knew without question that the woman in front of him could do exactly what she threatened and make it very, very painful. He could feel the power rippling from her in waves.

"I would never hurt her, Willow," he said, hoping he didn't look as terrified as he was feeling. 

He had fought against dark witches and wizards since he had started school. He had faced down his imperius-controlled friends. He had even been the one to battle Lord Voldemort, face-to-face, albeit only because he was forced into it.

And yet...

He was almost positive that he had never felt as terrified as he did in the presence of this small, dainty, red-haired girl who looked like she would be blown over with the slightest breath of wind.

A smile crossed Willow's lips and the intimidating force that had been crushing in on him seemed to vanish instantly and he staggered slightly. "That's all I wanted to hear," she said, looping an arm through his. "Now, let's get to the car."

He was still too stunned to think about forming a verbal response.

***

"So you're English, huh?"

Sitting on the soft, squishy tan-coloured couch in the large, comfortable living room of the house that Buffy and her friends shared, Harry smiled up at Dawn. "Apparently, yes," he answered. "Is that a bad thing? Xander certainly appears to think so."

"Nah," Dawn was sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. "Xander doesn't trust you, because there was some weird deal at High School where Willow met a freakoid online and he almost killed her." She gave him a winning smile. "He hates you cos you might be a homicidal maniac, not because you're English."

"That's reassuring," he chuckled, leaning back. 

Buffy had just run up to the bathroom, leaving Dawn and Harry alone in the living room. Willow had departed to go to her classes, saying she couldn't afford to miss any, while Xander had left to go back to work.

"Can I ask you something?"

Dawn shrugged. "Sure."

"Why...I mean..." Raising a hand, he scratched his head, his face contorted as he tried to find a way to phrase the question. "Everyone here...they all seem to have a sadness in them...in their eyes. Is this...is it so bad here?"

Dawns face tightened. "I-I guess Buffy didn't tell you what happened to Tara...and to Anya as well..."

"I-I heard that Tara had died and that Xander and Anya had a very bad break-up last year," Harry said awkwardly. "But I didn't want to upset Buffy by asking for details. I assume it was awfully bad?"

"Yeah. Xander loved Anya too much and thought he was doing the best for her when he left her. He still loves her. And Tara..." Dawn's dark blue eyes misted over sadly and she sighed. "Tara was the coolest," she said. "She...she got shot. Right in front of Willow..." Harry's felt the blood draining from his face. "Will...she went crazy for a while after it...but she's okay now."

"She's a very powerful young woman," Harry murmured to himself, swinging his bootless feet up onto the couch and leaning against the arm, staring up at the ceiling, one hand behind his head. "Very powerful."

"Omigod..."

Dawn's voice had sunk to a whisper.

"Omigod..."

Tilting his head, Harry looked at her. "What?"

"You're him!"

"Pardon?"

"You! You're him!"

"Him who?"

She pointed at his forehead, where his hair had fallen back from the scar, leaving it visible for all to see. "You're Harry Potter!"

Closing his eyes, in irritation, Harry smothered a groan. "Not again," he whispered, shaking his head. "Why did that bloody woman have to write those bloody books? She didn't have a clue..." 

"Huh?"

Slowly sitting up, Harry turned back to face the teenager, who was staring at him in confusion. "What do you know about Harry Potter?" he asked her, combing his fringe back down over his scar with his fingers.

"That he's a wicked cool wizard and the books are way cool!"

Harry studied her. "And you think I'm Harry?"

"Look at you!" she exclaimed excitedly, gesturing wildly with her hands. "You have the messy hair and the green eyes and the scar and everything!"

"All right," He hoped he could depend on the fickleness of teenage logic to never believe anything that they were told honestly. "I really am Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the saviour of the world."

"I knew it!"

Apparently, this one was no normal teenager.

Bugger.

Leaning forward on his knees, he exhaled a long, whistling breath. "Look, Dawn, I need you to do something for me, right?" She nodded, wide-eyed. "Don't mention who I am to Buffy. She hasn't read the books has she?"

"Nuh-uh," Dawn answered, shaking her head. "She thinks they're dumb."

"Good," he sighed. "That's something at least."

"You don't like 'em?"

Leaning back against the couch, Harry removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes pressed closed. "I would cheerfully see all of them burned if I had my own way," he answered honestly.

"Oh!" Dawn said. "You can do that in some of the other States! They say they're the work of the Devil!"

"Worse," Harry muttered. "Rita Skeeter."

"Rita Skeeter...?"

"She wanted a big seller, so she fictionalised my life," he replied, scowling at the ceiling as if he could see Rita's smarmy, smiling face leering down on him. "Muggles got hold of them and now, everyone thinks they know me because of it."

Dawn looked puzzled. "She fictionalised you?"

"You honestly think that everything in those books happened that way?" His green eyes clouded. "They made me look like a rebellious hero. They made me look so very brave, facing the Dark Lord on my own."

"You didn't face Voldemort?"

"Oh, I did," he replied hollowly, staring blindly in front of him. "Not by any choice of my own. I had to stand by and watch my friends almost get killed by him. I saw friends dying in front of me. I didn't cry in the books. Not once. I couldn't. I wasn't allowed to. Not...heroic enough. Nothing I did was heroic enough. Not for them. Not for her."

"Wha...?"

Green eyes flashed with pain. "I was an eleven year old boy, Dawn. I wasn't brave, or noble or heroic or clever or anything like that. I was just a kid with a scar on my head," He didn't know why he was telling her, but there was something different about the girl. "I didn't even know how I got it. All I knew was that I was different because of it and that everyone thought I was some kind of demi-God. All because of one damned scar. I was expected to save the world all because of a line on my head."

Dawn was staring at him in a strange way. One hand touched the left side of her torso, and she carefully asked. "I...things were that bad?"

"Yes."

It was said so flatly, so dulled of emotion that he was unsurprised that Dawn didn't push further.

"I've got scars too," she said. It was blunt, but said so hopefully, he had to smile at the fact she was making an effort. She yanked the hem of her shirt up, revealing several thin, whitish lines across her pale skin.

They cut down, in diagonals, matching the gaps between her lowest ribs and Harry stared at them. "How on earth did you get scars there? And that pattern..." 

"Dawnie! Don't bug Harry!" Both of them turned to the stairs, where Buffy was, smoothing a flattering lilac shirt down over a pair of cream-colour trousers. She gave Harry a smile. "Sorry about her. I did warn you."

Harry returned the smile. "Don't worry," he said, "We were just talking about what Dawn likes to read and comparing scars."

"Don't tell me she started going on about those Larry Plotter books again," Buffy groaned and Harry actually had to forcibly smother a laugh, which snuck out as a vehement snort. "Dawn, can you please go and...I don't know...just do something that isn't here."

"But I wanna..."

"Dawn," Harry interrupted with a tired chuckle. "We can talk more later, okay? Don't want your sister getting annoyed with us, do we?" Dawn beamed at him and skipped off.

Buffy watched her go. She looked surprised and pleased. "How...?"

"Sheer talent?" he offered in response, eyes twinkling, shifting his rucksack off the couch. Buffy eased passed him, her knee brushing against his and he felt his stomach do what felt like a backflip.

"I'll have to learn your trick," she said, as she sat down beside him on the couch, pulling one foot up, underneath her body. It always fascinated him how women could do that so easily, when it always hurt like hell when he did it.

Shifting to face her, he raised his left arm to prop it on the back of the couch, his left temple resting against his fist. His green eyes drank in the form of the girl in front of him, the girl he had talked to about almost everything except just who he was. 

She was looking down at her slender hands, which were folded demurely in her lap, her honey-blonde hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders.

"I-I...did..." she started to say, then trailed off. A soft laugh escaped her and she looked up, her hazel eyes greeting his timidly. "I never thought I would have nothing to say to you," she said quietly.

"I know the feeling," he replied, his voice equally low, raising his right hand to brush a loose strand of her hair back from her pale face. A flattering pink rose in her cheeks and she averted her eyes again.

There was a long silence only broken by Dawn clattering about in her bedroom above them.

"You..."

"It..."

Both of them laughed as they spoke as one.

"You first," Buffy offered, smiling. "You're the guest."

Harry nodded, before replying. "I just wanted to say it was very kind of you to invite me to visit you," he said earnestly. "Its so good to finally get a chance to put a face to the name."

"I was going to say the same thing," she said, then grinned slightly. "Not the whole inviting thing for me, because that would just be kinda dumb, seeing as I'm here and all, already."

"Just a little," Harry agreed, his eyes twinkling.

"Hey!" She smacked him on the arm. "And that reminds me..." A speculative gleam flashed in her eyes. "I owe you a slap upside the head," she said, lunging at him, one hand extended with the intention of thwapping him on the head.

"Help! There's a mad girl throwing herself at me! Help!" He couldn't help laughing as he caught her extended hands and they started wrestling against each other, her hand futilely slapping at empty air.

"I wanna slap you upside the head!" Buffy cried out indignantly, squirming and jerking her other wrist free. "I promised I would!"

"Over my dead body!"

"You wanna play it that way, huh?"

Harry released a thoroughly pitiful yelp of surprise as she tangled a leg around his and yanked, both of them plummeting off the couch. 

He fell first, landing flat on his back between the coffee table and the front of the sofa. Buffy landed on top of him, her body pinning his down and she reached up, triumphantly cuffing him across the head, leaving his hair more mussed than usual.

"Got ya," she smirked down at him.

Harry blinked.

A very warm, very soft, very pretty young woman with the most captivating hazel eyes, pouty pink lips and cutest-shaped nose he had ever seen was sprawled on top of his body, her left knee between his upraised ones, her right leg pressing against his left side. Her right hand was bracing her, on the floor beside his head, her left resting on his right shoulder.

He blinked again.

Somewhere along the line, he was positive his brains had turned to tapioca.

Hazel stared into emerald.

Buffy blinked.

Harry blinked back.

Buffy matched the blink and raised it one.

Had Harry been capable of moving anything other than his eyelids at this point, he knew he would have been running around in a panic.

There had never been anything in the books that he had read about what to do if a stunning young woman falls on you and starts blinking at you. 

It had covered what to do in the event of torrential flooding on a first date, in case of an ex showing up and trying to break the date up, heck, even what to do if there was a plague of migrating coconuts, but nothing on the subject of delicious, blinking girls... 

The tip of his tongue came out and moistened lips that were feeling very, very dry.

He saw Buffy's throat shift, as if she were swallowing hard, her hand on his shoulder pressing a little harder than it has a moment before and she moved slightly.

Harry went cross-eyed and Buffy looked down their bodies, suddenly made very aware of what the front of her left thigh was rubbing again, the charming blush flooding her cheeks right to the roots of her hair.

"Harry..." she whispered, looking back at him. 

He knew he was staring blankly at her, incapable of forming coherent thoughts let alone words of any kind. He saw the tip of her tongue stroke along her lips and uttered a feeble groan.

It seemed like an eternity passed, both of them just staring at one another.

"Buffy," he managed to breathe.

He didn't know if it was just him, hoped it wasn't, but it felt like their eyes were locked together and slowly, inexorably slowly, her face started to descend towards his, her tongue moistening her lips nervously.

Her breath was warm and sweet on his face and it smelt of peppermint, while he knew he probably still stank of the Tacos, which Dawn insisted he try on the way back from the airport.

A moment before his own eyes closed, he saw hers flutter shut, her lips barely a breath away from his. His heart was thundering against his ribs and he felt his breath catch in his throat with anticipation.

"Buffy!"

Harry's eyes snapped open, Buffy already pulling back from him and scrambling to her feet, turning to the scarlet-faced Dawn, who was standing on the stairs, looking utterly mortified that she had interrupted something.

Perfect bloody timing, Harry's mental voice screamed.

Had she not looked so stunned and totally embarrassed, Harry knew that he would have happily hurled a pillow - followed by several harder and heavier items - at the teenager's head.

"Omigod! I'm sorry! I didn't know you were...I...um..."

Buffy smoothed down her shirt. Sitting up behind her, he could still see the reddish glow of her cheeks. "We weren't doing anything," she said hastily. "What were you yelling about, Dawnie?"

"Uh...Willow...she just phoned from school..." Blue eyes darted to Harry, who was getting to his feet, straightening his rather rumpled T-shirt. "There's something you gotta take care of. Alone."

"Okay," Buffy sighed. "Harry, do..." Turning to face him, her words trailed off as the blush rapidly returned to her cheeks. "Um...do-do you mind staying here with Dawnie for a while?"

"Anything is fine by me," he answered, raising a hand to lift a stray lock of hair back onto the right side of her parting. Her eyes followed his hand's every move and she looked back at him as soon as he lowered it. "You take care, all right?"

She gave him an odd, lop-sided smile. "I always do," she answered. Rising on her toes, she touched a kiss to his cheek, then hurried across the floor to the hall, one finger pointing at her sister. "You behave."

"Yes, oh Queen of the Universe," Dawn replied, receiving a half-glare from her sister, before the blonde darted out of the house and Dawn turned, grinning, to Harry, who was touching his cheek. "You got it bad?"

"What?"

The teenager grinned. "You and Buffy."

"Er..."

Leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest, Dawn gave him a knowing grin. "If I hadn't come in, you two would have been making with the smoochies."

Harry felt the heat prickling in his face and wondered just how red he had gone. "I-I don't know what you mean..."

"Sure you do, Harry ...lip-on-lip action," Hopping down from the stairs, Dawn came into the room, giving him a grin. "I always thought that you and her would kinda get along, y'know..."

"Pardon?" He was having a little trouble focussing on what she was saying. One, he was feeling very warm in the face area. Two, his trousers were feeling rather tight in a certain area. Three...

By God, he wished he had kissed her.

"You and Buffy. I mean, even if the books are wrong, you and her are both all tragic and silent-heroic and stuff and," There was an impish glint in her blue eyes. "If you wanna cool down, there's ice in the refrigerator."

Was he really that obvious?

"Er..." Running a hand through his mussed hair, he frowned at her words. "What did you mean Buffy and I are both tragic and heroic? I certainly haven't done anything heroic. Stupid, yes, but not heroic."

"Oh!" Dawn's eyes went wide. "OH!"

"Meaning?"

"Um...do...do you wanna have something to eat?"

"Are you trying to distract me, Dawn?"

Dawn shook her head. "No! Big no! Definitely not! I'm just...um...saying...maybe you might be hungry or something..." She gave him an encouraging grin that was tinged with a kind of wary hope. 

"What are you trying not to tell me?"

"Nothing! Nope! Nothing at all!"

Raising his eyebrows, Harry covered a smile. If Buffy had something that even her sister was hiding, he supposed he could wait until she told him, but meanwhile, her sister was a fan of his unofficial and sensationalised biography...

"So, Dawn," he said. "Is there anything you'd want to talk about, since you're not hiding anything from me?"

Blue eyes lit up like a tree on Christmas day.

"I can ask you stuff?"

"Anything you like."

"Oooh!"

Harry couldn't help chuckling. She was such a sweet kid. And it would definitely pass the time until Buffy got back. "There's only one thing, though," she stared at him suspiciously. "You answer my questions when I answer yours."

"Hey! No fair!"

"Does that mean you won't answer my questions?"

Dawn's face twisted as if she were struggling to come to a decision. "I...I don't know if I'm the right person to tell you stuff, but!" she exclaimed, raising a hand. "I do know some stuff I can tell you!"

"I suppose that's a start, then," he eased around the coffee table and walked towards her, nodding towards the kitchen. "Now, what was that you were saying about food of some kind?"

***

Lying on his side on the couch, Harry's eyes and ears were both open. 

Night had come to Sunnydale and he had spent a very bizarre evening playing board games and watching films with the Summers women and Willow, who all seemed at a bit of a loss for things to do with him.

He could imagine one thing he would like to have been doing with Buffy, but - his cheeks reddened at the thought - she had been as bashful around him as he had been around her, when she had come back from the school.

Xander had arrived back a little later than Buffy and Willow, given Harry another warning look, then ate and disappeared into the basement. Apparently, he was working the next morning.

Now, it was nearly midnight, it was pitch-dark outside and Harry was sure he could hear someone moving around quietly upstairs.

After all, when you have been the main target of a psychotic Dark Wizard for nearly your whole life, one would hope that you learned to listen for danger.

Harry had learned that lesson and judging by what he was hearing, it was Buffy that was on the move. She was going through drawers and cupboards, apparently trying to be as quiet as possible, but he still could tell it was her.

Why, he had no idea.

After all, he had bumped into her on his way into the bathroom a couple of hours earlier and she had been wearing her pyjamas and looking painfully cute, her hair in bunches on either side of her head.

Footsteps sounded on the landing and he closed his eyes, as he heard someone coming down the staircase. Whoever it was approached the couch and leaned over him, a scent of jasmine reaching him.

Buffy.

He felt a gentle hand stroke his dark hair back from his brow, then heard her walk away, the door opening and closing with a click.

What on earth...?

Where was she going at this time of night?

Didn't she know it was dangerous?

Swinging his legs out from under the blankets, he grabbed his trousers that were slung over the back of the couch and hauled them on, grabbing a jumper as he pushed his feet into his shoes.

A hand dug into his rucksack and he found his wand.

He wasn't about to let his little Summersby get herself hurt out there on the streets in the middle of the night.

Easing out of the front door, he glanced around and spotted the petite, receding figure of the blonde walking purposefully and rapidly down the street, apparently unaware that he was behind her.

Walking after her, sticking to the stretching shadows, he couldn't help shuddering with unease. There was something very much...not right about the town, something dark and chilling that he hadn't noticed when the sun was shining, on his arrival.

It reminded him, unnervingly, of several things: deep in the underbelly of Hogwarts, when he had faced Quirrel and Lord Voldemort, shaking and terrified; even deeper than the underbelly, when he had faced Tom Riddle, feeling certain he was going to die; the resurrection of the Dark Lord...

Evil.

That's what it reminded him of.

The whole town was thick with it, the scent of it. He couldn't say how he recognised the scent of evil, perhaps it was through familiarity, but something told him that this wasn't a good town to live in.

It felt like everything around him was held in the cloying grip of a giant hand and it was crushing in on the town, squeezing the goodness out of the place, the underlying malevolence taking his breath away.

Hurrying after Buffy, he wondered again just what she thought she was doing, going out at night in a place that felt as bad as this one. Even if she was just a muggle, how could she ignore the innate badness of the place?

Unless...

The thought jarred under his breastbone.

Followed by another.

Yes, she might have a boyfriend that she didn't want him to know about, he thought despairingly, but - more importantly, his D.A.D.A. knowledge screamed - she might be a Dark Sider and might have recognised him.

Even as he thought it, he snorted at the very idea.

Of course she didn't have a boyfriend! She would have told him!

Um...

What he meant to think was Buffy was definitely no more a Dark Side Witch than he was Lord Voldemort.

He saw the flare of Buffy's coat ahead of him, as she turned through a gateway and broke into a run to catch up with her, stopping short at the sight of the place she had entered, his mouth falling open.

With grey stone walls that gleamed in the light of the half-moon, large, rectangular objects and statues peered through the wrought metal of the gates, also washed in pale bluish moonlight.

Summersby had just gone into a graveyard.

***

Ducking under a kick, Buffy lashed out with her right leg, catching the newly raised vampire in the gut, whipping around and using her momentum to stab her stake into the demon's chest.

A spray of dust exploded outwards and she stepped back, brushing herself down.

She seriously needed to distract herself from the hottie whom she had left asleep on the couch in the living room. He hadn't put her off her game, but still, she was thinking about him a bit too much.

The picture had been cute.

Harry, in person, was even cuter.

And sweet!

He had brought a huge box of British chocolates for Dawn, who had squealed and insisted on hugging him several times in rapid succession. Willow had received a beautiful book of magical lore and Xander - despite feigning disinterest - had loved the whole set of snowdomes.

Buffy's free hand rose to the delicate gold necklace that hung around her neck, briefly wondering if he had known how appropriate his gift for her had been, when he had bought it for her.

It was a small Celtic cross, which had her name incorporated into the design and she loved it already.

Yes, when he had first arrived, Angel - too - had given her a cross, but at least Harry didn't lurk in shadows and she had seen him in daylight, which would get her out of her unfortunate tendency for being involved with the undead.

He just seemed so...dishevelled. It wasn't a bad thing. Angel had always been super-neat with his hair and his clothes, but Harry...he looked comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair sticking out in every direction.

She also imagined he would look H.O.T. in a tux.

He had such a yummy accent, nowhere near as stuffy as Wesley's but not casual as Spike's had been.

"Well, well, what have we here..."

Whipping around, Buffy stared at the man standing there in shock. She was so sure that he was gone, never to be seen again. "S-Spike?" she took a cautious step back, the crazed grin on the vampire's face making her uneasy.

"Yeah, luv," he murmured in reply, leaning against the side of the mausoleum she had been walking passed. His vampiric face was visible, his gold eyes fixed on her. "I thought I'd come and pay you a visit, since we parted on such bad terms last time."

"Bad terms?" Drawing herself up, her eyes narrowed at him. "Spike, you attacked me! You tried to...to..."

"Yeah, I did," He was smirking again, that odd, unnerving smirk. Buffy's fingers tightened around Mister Pointy. "What of it? I'm a vampire, luv. I'm not meant to be all hugs and kisses and cuddles in the night."

"What do you want, Spike?"

"You, luv," He straightened up, unfolding his arms. The smile had vanished and he was staring at her with a wild, dangerous hunger she remembered in him from years before, when he had still been unchipped. "Just you."

Apparently that was a cue.

Several other vampires, all grinning widely, emerged from the brush around them, surrounding the Slayer, who shifted uneasily, counting rapidly around the circle. So there were ten of them...right...

She'd dealt with worse odds than that before and as long as they didn't all...

"No holding back," Spike ordered lazily. "Go in together. Don't give her a break."

"Crap!" Buffy yelped aloud, as they all charged her.

She felt kicks, punches, teeth grazing her, but nothing too serious. She'd definitely had a lot worse than that. Yes, she was out-numbered, but most of them seemed to be fairly young and unskilled.

One erupted in a cloud of dust and she used two more as leverage to jerk her legs up and kick one in the face, sending him flying. One hand jerking one of the vampire's arms around, she used him as a shield and lashed out behind with her other leg.

Another vampire exploded behind her and she thanked her lucky stars for Xander's stroke of genius: he had attached long, thin staked to the heels of her boots and if she got the angle just right, they worked as well as a hand-held one.

Her shoulder cracked as she was tackled from behind, crashing to the ground with a yell of pain, swinging her legs around in a straddle-kick that took both her opponent's legs out from under him, while wrestling against another one's arms.

Beyond her line of sight, she heard someone shout, then two of the vampires at the edge of her group seemed to notice something.

"Get him!" one of them yelled and Buffy groaned.

Not another innocent Samaritan getting caught up in the mess that was her life.

She could hear the sound of fighting a short distance away, but jerked her attention back to the quartet that she was still battling, yanking a short blade from a sheath on her back, her other hand wielding her stake.

Spike was laughing.

He hadn't moved from his spot.

"This is high quality entertainment, Buffy," he chuckled, lighting up a cigarette. "I get to see you have your arse beaten into submission for me, then make you watch while I eat the poor sap those two are beating the crap out of."

"Not if I can help it!" she snarled.

Spike smirked. "You can't," he said dryly. "Poor twit's gonna wish he'd never tried to help you and your little damsel in distress act."

"_Vampirus exhime_!" 

The shout was in a masculine voice and a surge of dazzling, reddish light flashed from beyond the stones that were obscuring Buffy's line of sight, making all the vampires look around.

Taking her chance, she managed to catch one of them with her stake and lopped off another's head before they even had a chance to realise what was going on, the other two leaping away wisely as Buffy came to her feet.

Even Spike was staring in stunned horror.

Apparently, the 'poor twit' wasn't about to regret anything.

The other two vampires which had left her to attack him lay in dust at his feet and Buffy's eyes went wide in astonishment. 

"Harry!"

Green eyes snapped to her face and he went white. "Buffy!"

She looked at his right hand, which was gripping a long, thin wooden stick, while he stared at the small sword and the stake in her hands. Both of them hastily hid their hands behind their backs at the same time, despite the fact that it was blatantly obvious that the other had seen.

As one, they demanded: "What are you doing here?"

Gasp! They have found out! What's going to happen now? Tune in, in a couple of days time (between which, I have a presentation, another viewing of CoS, two classes and a chance to actually sleep) to find out! And it looks like being bigger than 4 chs. Dammit! Not again! (see my other fanfiction.net stuff for details! I'm a BIG HP/Buffy crossover person :D )

Also, big thanks to all reviewers – I would list you all, but eek! I got 50 reviews for it in less than 24 hours! It would take another half page and I think you'd all prefer me to be writing the next chapter :D Thank you ALL though. Its cos of you this ch. Is being uploaded this quickly :D Hope you like!


	4. Um

Chapter Four - Um...

Notes: This is going to be a difficult chapter to cover. A) because of the Buffy/Harry thing which I still don't wanna be liking and B) because of their secret identities to one another not being quite so secret. Gah. How to do this without making it seem like they're bragging...gah...

Plus, they still have to survive :D *plots to kill everyone!* Muahaha!

________________________________

They gaped at each other.

"You...you snuck out. I was worried..." Harry felt like his face was on fire and took a step back. What had he been thinking? Why had he been stupid enough to let himself get seen with his wand?

Daft question.

He had thought Buffy was in trouble.

He couldn't stand the thought of her being hurt and managed to get himself attacked by a couple of vampires in the process of trying to save her.

And yet, here she was: tiny; blonde; mussed; beautiful: beating some demon arses into submission with what he recognised as a stake and a dagger, a fire in her eyes making him wonder how he could ever have even entertained the notion that she was an average, normal girl.

A smile lit up her face. "You were worried about me?"

"Er...well..." A ice-cold hand locked around Harry's neck and, caught off-guard, he was jerked back by one of the two remaining vampires, whipped around to face an attack from the other before Buffy could move. 

A yell escaped him as he was launched across the yard by an almighty kick to the centre of his chest. He hit the side of one of the mausoleums with a sickening crunch and dropped to the ground, inert.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy felt like her stomach had plunged to her shoes at the sight of her dark-haired friend's limp body dropping out of her line of sight and she started forwards, only to be blocked by the two younger vampires.

"Harry!"

There was no way he could have survived the impact.

No way...

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. 

No. Not Harry.

He couldn't be dead...

Especially not killed by Spike's puny little band of minions. 

Drawing rasping breaths, she launched herself at the two demons, managing to stab her stake through the throat, then heart of one, before the second kicked her and sent her stumbling backwards.

"Newest boy-toy, ducks?" Spike sneered from close behind Buffy, his freezing hands coming down to squeeze her shoulders painfully hard. "Gotta say he didn't last very long, did he?"

"You bastard!"

Gold eyes glittered cruelly. "What's this?" he drawled, blocking the furious punches and kicks that the Slayer was launching at him. "So attached already?" Buffy started at his words. The vampire's eyes widened and he laughed. "So that's it, eh? You fell in love with a little poofter who can't even last five minutes?"

"Shut up!" Tears of anger and despair blurred her vision and she took a hard blow to the chin, the heel of Spike's hand driving her head back. One foot caught on a slab of a gravestone and she crashed down on her back.

Dodging the younger vampire, who stabbed down at her with a spar broken from one of the mausoleums, she swung her legs out to kick between his legs, sending him crashing to the ground, as she leapt back onto her feet.

So help her, if Harry wasn't all right...

"Couldn't even take a little kick...bet his brains are spilling out all over the grass..."

Rolling onto her feet, Buffy drew herself up coldly, her eyes dark with rage. "You should have left him alone," she growled, her voice low and dangerous, her hands gripping onto her stake and dagger.

"And miss seeing you in 'heart-broken' mode?"

"I'll kill you Spike, I swear to God..."

"Now we're talking, Slayer," he smirked at her. "You and me, one on one."

Hazel eyes flashed with fury. "You let me check on him..."

"Like hell I will."

The fight began afresh, Buffy's sole concern to get to Harry and - as soon as possible - get him to the hospital. She could anticipate Spike's every blow, her rage focusing in a outflow of hatred towards the vampire in front of her.

How DARE he harm her friend!

How DARE he come near her again!

How DARE he show his face in Sunnydale!

"You were crap, you know, luv," the vampire's insidious voice whispered in her ear coldly. "You didn't have a clue...what to do...how to do it...just like you've lost your touch now...you're wrong, ducks. Wrong..."

"And you're the one who kept coming back for more, fangless," she hissed back at him, crying out in pain as he managed to slip a blow passed her defences and caught across one cheek, one hand jerking up to feel blood on her burst skin.

He smirked, raising his right fist, revealing black gloves with sharp steel studs protruding over the knuckles. "Surprise, luv," he murmured. "I'm not afraid to break that pretty face of yours anymore."

Looking down at her fingertips, stained with warm blood, she looked up to receive a face full of studs, the force of the blow sending her tumbling, shock hitting her like a wrecking ball.

Yes, Spike had been able to hurt her last year, but he never had. Not really.

Now, he had lost all the qualms he had before.

Using the gravestone she had landed against for leverage, she flipped onto it and kicked out with her legs, her feet smacking squarely into the centre of Spike's chest, but he had anticipated her move, familiar after watching her so often.

His hand jerked and she yelled out in pain as she felt the bone snap. He continued the twist motion, hard and fast, and sent her tumbling on the ground at his feet, his eyes aglow with manic delight.

~~~~~~~~~

He couldn't believe it.

The Slayer, there, at his mercy, defenceless...

She really must have had it bad for that dark-haired kid who had tried to pick a fight with something out of his control. She had kept shooting looks to the place where he had fallen, as if she wanted to run to him.

Stupid little bint that she was...

Looming over her, Spike grinned widely as she tried to pull back, looking frantically for her stake. It had slipped from her fingers when she had fallen, in the grass and she wouldn't find it before he did the business.

"Lookie lookie, Slayer," he sneered, bending down towards her. "All brought back down to the level that you came from. Dirt you were and dirt you shall be... Bible... bloody interesting book...smart..."

"Shut up, Spike," she spat, her eyes streaming with tears and burning with pain and anger. Her right ankle was lying at an odd angle, the toe of her boot digging into the dirt beneath her.

"No friends. Where are all your little Scoobies now?"

"Well, I don't know about them," another voice put in. "But I'm here."

Spike jerked around to see a flash of furious green eyes.

"_Lumara solem_!"

Brilliant, dazzling light erupted around them, pouring forth from the direction of those burning green eyes and like those emerald eyes, it burned...bloody hell! It burned! It really burned!

"Sunlight," the voice said, strangely calm, but with an underlying note of danger. "I hear it's a little bad for you."

Spike looked down at himself.

Fire!

He was on fire!

Agony was spreading through him and he started to run, to run and get away from the light that was still blazing, those green eyes, to smother the pain. He heard a strange swishing sound, that of a stick being swept through the air like a whip.

"_Vampirus exhime_!"

He heard the words cried out from behind him, then nothing...

~~~~~~~~

Leaning heavily against the statue that was looming over Buffy, Harry looked down at her in consternation. "Are you all right?" he asked, his left hand pinning his limp right arm to his side.

They looked to be on even footing in the injuries table.

She had raw cuts open on one side of her face, as well as some scratches and bites on her arms and legs. Bruises were liberally dashed over bare patches of skin and her ankle was clearly in a bad way.

He, on the other hand, seemed to have misplaced a lot of the skin from the right side of his face, blood trickling ticklishly down behind his left ear, his nose bloodied and one eye swollen. His right arm was limp and his ribs felt like they had been whacked with a sledgehammer. 

Well, hit with a mausoleum was close enough.

"Yeah...broken ankle..." She looked at the limb, leaning forward to shift the bone back into place, then at him. "No biggie...you?"

Swallowing hard, he drew a breath then released it. His shoulder and upper arm felt like they were on fire and his wand felt strange against his numbing fingertips. "Think I might have a dislocated shoulder...or something broken..." he paused and blinked at her. "And what do you mean 'no biggie'? A broken ankle and having your face ripped to shreds are very much... er... 'biggie'!"

"I'm not the one who got thrown against a mausoleum," she reminded him, easing herself onto her feet.

"Oh, I'm all right," Harry gave her a faint grin, his hand slipping to the middle of his chest and rubbing the indentation of a shoe there. "I bounce."

"Obviously," she said, wincing and almost falling as she took a step, Harry's hand coming out to stabilise her. Her eyes went to the stick that had been stuck in the belt of his trousers. "What...what are you?"

"Um...what do you mean?"

"I mean you, pointing a stick and things happening," she answered, nodding to the stick in question. "That wasn't my imagination. I've seen far too many things in this town to know that wasn't imagination."

"I...I...um...I'm a wizard," he replied awkwardly.

Much to his surprise, Buffy didn't seem the least bit shocked or surprised by this revelation. "Neat," she replied. "And since I know what you are, I guess its only fair you know what I am, seeing as you've told me your dark secret."

"And that is?"

She gave him a nervous smile. "I'm the Slayer."

"The Slayer?" Green eyes rounded. 

"Mmm-hmm."

"THE Slayer?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Welcome to the Hellmouth."

Harry felt dizzy. 

Very, very dizzy.

"I think," he said, as the ground started rising towards him at a rapid rate. "I need to lie down..."

~~~~~~~~

"You told him?"

His eyes still closed, Harry could hear Xander's voice grating on his consciousness and he winced, his hard head still aching after it had been rather forcibly connected with the somewhat harder wall of a crypt.

"Are you sure that was a good idea, Buffy?" 

Willow. 

What was Willow doing in a cemetery?

Or Xander for that matter?

And why was the ground so soft underneath him and why did he smell antiseptic lotion and why was someone sponging the rather painful bump on his head with something cold and wet?

"He saved my life," Buffy's quiet voice spoke, closest to him. She sounded tired and very concerned. "He ran in on a fight I was having and they almost killed him, but he saved me, okay?"

"He did...?"

"Spike was about to kill me."

"Spike's back?" Xander sounded angry.

There was a weary sigh from the Slayer. "Spike's gone. Permanently this time. Harry dusted him."

"Harry…?" Willow sounded incredulous.

"Harry. He who lies beside me. He killed Spike and saved my life."

"But he…" Xander sounded equally stunned. "He…doesn't know about vampires."

Buffy's soft laugh almost succeeded in making Harry smile. "He does," she replied quietly. "He knows more than we guessed he knew. He teaches kids how to defend themselves the kind of things that I fight. I'll explain later."

Xander and Willow both fell silent.

Wincing as his nurse sponged a cut on his right temple, Harry reluctantly forced his eyes open, the bright light of the room making him squint, his vision out of focus, his head ache intensifying.

"Harry," Buffy's blurred face swam into his line of sight. "Harry?"

"Ow," he mumbled.

"I'll say," she replied softly, stroking damp hair back from his forehead, her fingers so gentle. He wanted to smile, but even that felt like it would make his face break if he tried. "How do you feel?"

"Ditto above," he groaned, as the feeling started to return to his whole body. "Ow..."

"You'll be okay, Harry," Buffy's voice reached his ears, but his vision still seemed strangely hazy. "We got you back to the house and Willow helped me to patch you up a bit. You just need to rest, okay?"

"Unless he has a concussion. When Giles had one of them, you had to keep him awake, remember..."

"I'll keep him awake!" Dawn's voice reached him. Was she there? He hadn't even noticed where he was lying. As far as he knew, he was on top of a rather comfortable gravestone in the Summers house.

"No, you won't. You have school tomorrow."

"Well, you have classes and you go out slaying all night! You did it when you were at High School too!"

Harry's mind vaguely registered this piece of information and added it to the small collection he was rapidly building up in the Buffy-file of his mind, which currently took up ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of his brain.

One. 

There was a Vampire Slayer, in whose house he was now resting. 

Two. 

The Vampire Slayer's friends and sister apparently knew who she was. 

Three. 

Sirius was going to LOVE this.

Harry hadn't just gone and fallen in love.

He'd only gone and fallen in love with the Slayer. A legend. He had argued black was white with his Godfather. He had insisted and repeatedly hunted down evidence that nullified the existence of the Slayer as a myth and nothing more.

And now, he was in love with the one argument he had won over Sirius.

Sometimes, he mused as he listened to the hum of voices around him, life just liked to bite you on the arse when you weren't looking.

~~~~~~~~

Apparently, he had slept.

It blurred into the timeline somewhere between getting kicked across a cemetery and lying on something soft and warm with Buffy - with a blurry face, which he assumed had something to do with his glasses missing - treating his wounds.

And waking.

That was the unfortunate part.

Waking brought all the pain back to him, full force. Yes, since he was a wizard, he did have a quicker healing ability than most muggles would and he had been injured in the most absurd ways possible, but still! Ouch!

Letting his eyes open slowly, he found a white ceiling above him and a room filled with the warm, golden light of early morning. He also felt something kind of soft and warm pressed against his side.

Tilting his head slightly - he was sure that he heard every bone from his jaw to his sternum crackle with the effort - he found a golden head resting on the pillow next to his. He brought his right hand carefully across his chest, to brush some loose strands of blonde hair back from the sleeping Slayer's face.

Her eyes snapped open instantly and, once again, he saw the energy and fire in them that he had seen the night before, as she came instantly awake and appeared to assess the situation, the wary fire faded to an affectionate look.

"You're awake," she said softly, sitting up.

"Apparently," he acknowledged, then realised just what he was lying on. It wasn't his couch, as he had been so sure it was. It was a bed. And not just any bed. A double bed, which Buffy had apparently shared with him.

He could feel the colour rushing to his face, wondering if this was considered at all inappropriate. Buffy noticed and laughed, as he struggled into a sitting potion against the pillows, his eyes averted.

"Don't worry," she said playfully, kneeling beside him. "We didn't do anything of the indecent and kinky," Harry was flooded with relief, which was replaced with... ahem... another emotion, when she added. "Yet."

He didn't need to be thinking along those lines.

Not now at least.

He had questions, as she no doubt did as well.

"Buffy..."

"Ah, I recognise that tone of voice..." Her hands uncomfortably smoothed down her trousers and she looked down at her splayed fingers. "Its time for the talk, I guess. I haven't told you enough about me for you to know me properly."

Harry was studying his own bruised arm. "Well, I haven't exactly been completely honest myself, Buffy," he replied quietly. "I didn't want you to know, because so many other people do. I didn't want you to see me as a name like everyone else."

"Huh?"

"My full name is Harry James Potter," he said, wondering how on earth he was going to explain his whole messed-up life to her. "My parents were a witch and a wizard, a good witch and wizard. They were killed by the Darkest Wizard to ever live and yet, when he tried to kill me, I survived and he was blown apart. All I was left with was this," His hand lifted his hair back from his scar. "I'm famous because of it. I was expected to be the saviour of my world, because of a cut on my head that I got when I was only a year old."

Buffy leaned forward, staring intently at the scar. Her small hand rose, her fingertips tracing lightly along the narrow line of red. It was like a spike of delicious heat had jarred through Harry's body and he jerked with a gasp.

"Oh! I'm sorry!"

"No...no, it's all right," Harry gasped, wondering what had caused him to react like that. No one ever touched his scar, especially not as gently as she had. No one had ever made him feel like he was on fire before. "It...it sometimes twinges...depends on my mood..."

"A mood scar," Buffy raised her eyes to his face, smiling slightly. "So...I know your basics, time for me to do my part. I'm the Slayer, the Chosen one, which you know already..." A puzzled look crossed her face. "How do you know about the Slayer?"

Harry's grin was watery as he replied, "I'm a teacher of defence against the dark arts at a wizarding school in Britain. You're one of the legends that gets referred to in the books we use. Not you personally, but 'Slayer comma the'. I didn't actually believe you existed."

"And now?"

"Now, I saw you kicking the arses of a pack of fledglings and if I hadn't distracted you, I'm pretty certain you could have taken them on and won. If that doesn't tell me you're definitely a Vampire Slayer, nothing would."

Buffy's lips rose a little, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Well, when you've been doing it almost every night since you were fifteen, you do kinda build up some technique," she said, self-depreciatingly. 

"Fifteen?" Harry gaped at her. He was in love with a Wonder Woman who had been a wonder woman for nearly seven years.

"Yeah," she smiled again, although it was bittersweet. "Had good friends to help me. No Slayer ever had that before. They kept me going. Kept me alive. Helped me when no one else could. Willow, Xander, Angel, Oz, Kendra, Faith, Tara, Cordelia...so many people. Only three of us are left now. One died. The rest...left."

"We were the same," Harry remarked sadly. "We were very close, my whole class at school. Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Parvati, Lavender. Ron, Hermione and I were together from the beginning, but they joined us and now...Seamus and Neville both died, Dean left the wizarding community permanently and the two girls... they left as well, but we still keep in touch occasionally."

"You were all wizards?"

"And witches," Harry nodded.

Buffy looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap. "Something tells me that we're going to have a lot to talk about here," she murmured. "But you..." Her eyes came up. "You don't worship Chaos or sell your soul or anything like that and you're not a Vengeance demon?"

"Not that I know of...would that be a bad thing?"

Buffy nodded. "Something tells me its going to be a long day with a whole lot of explaining," she said, shifting on the mattress. "We could sit on the couch downstairs if it would be more comfortable..."

"If I managed to move, I don't think I'd be able to do anything more than fall on my face," Harry said apologetically. "Is...would it be all right if we just stayed here and talked instead?"

"I can do that," she replied, shifting to sit cross-legged beside him. "So...where do we start? You or me?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "You? And what being a Slayer is about? What kind of things you've done...I mean, I've read about the killing vampires and demons, but what kind? And how and where and why?"

Buffy smiled slightly. "This could take a while."

"I've got all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."

~~~~~~~~

Evening had come.

People were rattling around downstairs in the Summers house.

However, on the double bed in the largest bedroom in the house, a Vampire Slayer who had saved the world more times than she even dared to count and a Wizard, who had accidentally saved the world more times than he wanted to contemplate were still talking quietly.

They had filled one another in on their very different worlds, their loves, their losses, the battles they had faced. Buffy had found herself crying softly, at the memory of her mother, Harry embracing her.

In return, his shaking references to his parents – to seeing their shadows, hearing their voices from beyond the grave – had almost shattered his resolve to continue to tell his tale. 

Buffy had knelt over him and let him cling to her in pained silence, his wounded face pressed against her neck, hot and damp, as he had tried to force down the tears she knew he was on the verge of shedding.

He didn't want to cry, but he had to, she knew.

Something told him that he was the kind of person to hide his tears, but now…

"You can cry," she had whispered and he had. His arms around her, his bruised body held protectively by her, he had wept, soft and bitter, without saying a word. Her hands brushed over his hair, unable to say anything, but simply holding him.

That had been early afternoon, shortly before Willow had arrived with a new healing potion from the magic shop, where she now helped out the young witch and wizard, whom Giles had sent to take care of it.

The potion had helped, but poor Harry was still a mass of bruises.

However, the pain that his body was no doubt in couldn't even come close to matching the pain in his green eyes, as he relayed his memories onto the girl who was sitting in front of him.

"I had to fight a friend to save my other friends. I had to injure him to get passed him," he said, sitting up and looking down at his hands. One fingertip traced along a line of cut left from the night before. "The hardest thing I've ever had to do was look him in the eyes when he came out of the power of the imperius curse, a curse that means you're under the control of someone else, and he was bleeding to death because of me. I didn't mean to hurt him, but I had to save them…all of them. He was looking at me, so trustingly, like he expected me to make everything all right, that I could save him..."

Buffy's face contorted in shock and remembrance. She could clearly remember the brown eyes, staring at her, confused and full of hope, even heard Angel's voice as he breathed her name.

"I've been there."

Green eyes, full of torment rose to her. "What?"

"I sent the man I loved to Hell. Angel," Her voice was clipped. "The souled vampire. It was when he had lost his soul. I was fighting him. Willow returned his soul, but it was too late. I had to kill him to stop a demon from swallowing the world. He looked at me. Didn't know what he had done. I...I kissed him. And I...I stabbed him through the chest and sent him to hell."

Harry's eyes widened into circles, his mouth opening and shutting.

"Shocked, huh?" She gave him a tired look, raising a hand to push her hair back from her pale face. "Which part? The dating a vampire thing? Or the losing soul and having to fight him?"

"Being able to do it," Harry said quietly. "Even though you loved him."

Buffy looked down as one of his hands covered hers. Strangely, the touch felt like sunlight pouring into a darkened room and she managed to smile slightly up at him. "I guess this is a bad time to tell you that I died."

Those green eyes blinked.

"Er...pardon?"

"Me. Dead. Over a year ago."

There was another confused blink.

"Obviously, not so much with the being-dead now, but back then...I was gone for a few months."

"You were...actually dead? As in dead-dead?"

"In a coffin, in the ground, soul in Heaven kinda dead," she affirmed.

"How?"

Buffy shrugged. "Super demon Goddess wanted to kill Dawnie and opened a portal with Dawn's blood. I beat the Goddess but it was too late to stop the portal. One of us had to die to close the portal and it wasn't going to be my sister. I jumped. Fell," Her face contorted slightly in pain at the memory. "There was pain...light and pain... then... peace...and then, Willow brought me back with uber-bad magics. Not a good thing, waking up six feet underground."

"Oh..."

A soft, weary laugh escaped the Slayer. "Not really much else you can say to that, is there? 'Hey, Harry, come and visit me, a completely normal girl and oh, by the way, I'm a vampire Slayer with a sister who was an interdimensional lock-pick, I've died twice, been raised from the dead by a witchy friend who dated a werewolf, been in love with a souled vampire, screwed another vampire, had a commando boyfriend who went for vampire-bite sessions'."

"You haven't had much luck, have you?"

"Understatement," she agreed, looking down at his hand again. His thumb was moving in circles on the back of her hand and it was definitely a sensation that was of the pleasant. "But hey! You're still here. You haven't run screaming."

Harry's lips lifted in a smile. "Buffy, I've been the main target of a Dark Lord my whole life. If you turned out to be him in disguise, I would be long gone, but being involved with a Wonder Woman who has died for love...nothing you can say would scare me away from you."

"I'm actually a man?" she suggested in a small voice, looking down.

"I said," he repeated, his voice soft, as one hand cupped her chin and lifted her face up. She could feel the calluses of his thumb and fingertips against the smooth skin of her cheek. "Nothing. Not even if you were a six-foot-eight Gorilla woman...although I hope you're not."

Buffy's lips quirked at one side. "You're crazy," she said.

"In love. It's not the same."

"In...love?"

Hesitantly leaning forward, the sofa shifting beneath them, Harry nervously brushed a cautious kiss across her lips. He started to draw back, but a hand caught his shoulder and green met hazel.

"Don't," she whispered. She was drowning, drowning in those emerald eyes, eyes that held as much pain and loss as she did, eyes that matched her and yet could counterpoint her as well.

"Don't what?" 

Her small hand slid along his shoulder, the brush of her fingers against his neck making him shiver. His dark hair was soft against her fingertips and she stared up at him. "Don't stop," she breathed, bringing his mouth back down on hers.

She felt his hands draw her closer to him, his touch light, his kiss tentative, as if he expected her to pull back or to push him away. 

"I won't break," she whispered, as they came apart for air, one of her hands wound through his dark hair, her eyes dark with need. "Don't be afraid to touch me, Harry. I'm not made of glass."

His eyes fell, then returned to hers and he wet his lips with his tongue. "It…it's been a while since anyone…" He looked down again, a furrow visible in his brow. His voice was strained, shaking. "I…I couldn't let anyone close…"

She understood.

He'd touched fire and he'd been burnt, just as she had.

"Do you trust me, Harry?" she asked softly.

He nodded immediately. "I do."

"And you love me…" this was said with a slight grin.

Green eyes met hers. "I think I was made to love you, Buffy."

If she hadn't already been practically in his lap, Buffy knew for a fact that she would have fainted into his arms at those words. She had never heard anything so beautiful or so sincere in her life.

Unable to think of anything more to say, she moved forward until she was pressed against his body and met his lips in another kiss, which made her tremble from the intensity of it all. 

She had had intense before. Angel had been intense. Spike had been intense. Riley had been…well, he had been intense in his own way. 

But this…this was beyond intense. This was liquid heat, this was fire, fire that didn't just singe or burn. It was all-consuming and she was willing to let it swallow her alive as long as it didn't end.

His brilliant eyes closed a heartbeat before hers and she felt his hands sliding over her hips and spreading on her back, his fingertips digging through the thin material of her shirt.

Somehow, she didn't know how, one of those warm, gentle hands managed to ease beneath her shirt. His skin was dry and warm which was an unfamiliar sensation to say the least, a little rough, but the moment his fingertips skimmed against her back, she arched back with a gasp.

Her chest pressed against his and she heard him yelp in pain.

"Oh crap…"

Harry grinned apologetically at her. "Sorry."

"Does it hurt bad?" she asked, her fingers nimbly undoing the buttons down the front of Xander's shirt, which had been the only piece of clothing they could get a hold of when Buffy had brought him in from the cemetery.

Wincing, he nodded. "A little," he replied, as she eased the shirt down, revealing a thin body still covered with bruises. "Typical," he murmured morosely, looking down at his chest. "The one time I'm sure of wanting to do something, I look like I've been used as a punch bag."

"And your point is?" Buffy murmured, shifting and straddling his thighs, a small smile on her lips.

"Um…"

"You don't need to move," she said, lightly trailing her fingertips down his now-bare chest and making him shiver. 

"Are…are you sure about…" his words trailed off into silence as she leaned in and kissed his throat, his head rocking back against the headboard of the bed, eyes going wide then closing. His hands on her back drew her closer. "Oh…"

"Mmm," Buffy agreed bringing her lips back to his. 

Not much was left to be said after that.

_______________________________________________

*shudders and scrubs at self violently* I feel physically sick. I feel nauseous and violated and icky and unpleasant and yuck! I hate romance and love and smoochies and all that stuff and YUCK! My two least favourite characters going at it… ickickick!

However, to all you people who like reading this and have been reviewing, thank you :) My ego is feeling all pleasantly stroked and suchlike. 80+ reviews for 3 chapters has to be some kind of record for me and again – its all cos of you that I wrote this one so quickly. I hope you like, while I go and heave in the bucket in the corner.

Also, Riverchic, feel free to use the idea :) After all, you said you had the first chapters written. Don't let me stop you from using them :D


	5. Trouble!

Chapter Five - Trouble!

Notes: Well, I've been stumped with this chapter for a while. I finally had an idea and then it spun out of control and I was laughing madly at it, so I figured it would have to do it. Plus, came up with an ending I adore. A chapter I actually LIKE in this story AND an **ending**! Surely there is something wrong in the world! :D

Yes, this is the **last** chapter of this story. Gee. I'm heartbroken. Sob. See?

_______________________

"Morning, Hermione. Didn't wake you, did I?"

The face in the fireplace smiled broadly up at Sirius Black, where he was sitting on the edge of the hearth. "Not at all. Ron was up at the crack of dawn again. How are you, Sirius?" Hermione Granger asked. "And how are the others?"

It was early morning in England and the two men in the small house were both up and about, Remus because of the full moon waning and Sirius to make sure that Remus was all right after the change. 

More than that, though, Sirius Black was a little...concerned. 

Harry Potter, his Godson, had vanished a few days earlier, leaving a note saying that he had gone to visit a friend, but normally, he only stayed away a day or two and at least kept in touch.

In two days, there had been no word.

It wasn't that Harry couldn't look after himself, but Sirius knew that he had a tendency of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Oh, Remus is so-so, full moon waning and everything," he replied, with an amiable shrug. "But Harry..." Well, he had held of from panicking until now, so that was definitely progress. "Do you know when he's coming home?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Harry left a note saying he had gone...he's not staying with you?"

Hermione shook her head. "We haven't seen him since he said he was going to visit someone called Buffy..."

"Bloody hell!"

Sirius was on his feet and running out of the cosy living room, leaving Hermione squinting after him through the floo connection. "I suppose that's everything then?" she called after him.

***

"C'mon, Moony! You're the one that bought the thing for him!"

Remus Lupin gave his friend an even look. "If you would stop breathing down my neck I might be able to concentrate on it, Padfoot," he said calmly. "Now would you please stop pacing and twitching, please."

"But he's gone to the other side of the world to meet a complete stranger he met through a box full of wires and gizmos! I mean, I thought he was like Prongs in looks, but I didn't think he would be as daft as his old man!"

Shaking his head, Lupin continued to patiently tap into the computer. He had been the one to insist on Harry having the machine in the first place.

When he had been forced out of Hogwarts and employment, nearly ten years earlier, due to the unfortunate fact that he was a werewolf, he had attended muggle computer classes. He had been aware that he might actually be able to have some semblance of a life, if he could learn to master the technology.

It had worked and he, unknown to Sirius, his best friend for nearly thirty years, ran several businesses online. 

Working entirely through the computer, no one was aware that he was anything more than a highly intelligent man, which meant that he no longer had to suffer the stigma of the werewolf.

He had even managed to have some other wizards setting up computer connections, albeit hesitantly. Some were still dubious about the muggle world, but he was thrilled by the fact he could work in it successfully, without his...disability causing problems.

When Harry had shown an interest in computers, Remus had suggested to Sirius that Harry might benefit from them and he had, originally, been thinking that he may eventually involve his...well, his nearly adopted son into his online business venture.

Now, though, he couldn't help grinning at what the younger man had done.

Yes, Sirius might be right in his assumption that many people online were raging nutcases with no lives, but he always forgot that Harry was now one of those people and he was hardly what would be regarded as your standard raging nutcase.

Plus, Harry was an excellent judge of character.

Even just looking at the friends he had connected with from his very first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was clear that he knew how to pick friends and friendships that would last.

Something told Remus that if Harry had made a friend online, they were hardly going to be some kind of psychopath.

Although, it would be an interesting concept if they were, considering Harry was a powerful wizard in his own right. It had the potential to be a very interesting face off, if the person he was meeting wasn't entirely...normal.

"What's that mean? Login complete?"

"Sirius," Remus said patiently, making sure that his friend noticed he was using his forename, usually a sign that he was being serious. "It mean that I've managed to hack past Harry's security code."

"Eh?"

"Just trust me and sit down somewhere. You're distracting me," A huff of hot breath hit the back of his neck and the calmer of the two men turned, wand in hand. "Sirius, if you don't stop panting down my neck, I'll have to do it for you."

Blue eyes studied the wand, then Remus' calm face. Remus' mouth lifted at one side, an eyebrow rising in challenge. "Let me guess," he said dryly. "You'll turn me into a piece of furniture, until you're finished?"

"You know I would do it, Padfoot," he reminded his friend. "Now, sit! Change form and lick your balls or something like that. Keep yourself distracted. I need my full concentration if I'm going to hack into all Harry's accounts."

"Hack?" Backing away, Sirius dropped heavily onto Harry's bed, cocking his head in a dog-like fashion. "With a knife?"

Remus laughed softly. "If only it was that easy," he replied over his shoulder. "Now what did I say?"

"Licking sir, Herr Commandant, sir," Sirius responded briskly, shifting into his familiar animagi form of the enormous, shaggy black dog and giving himself a lick for good measure.

Unfortunately, he forgot he was sitting on the edge of the bed and with his body shifting from seated human to seated dog, it was a bit of a change of positions and he crashed down onto the floor, taking Harry's bedside desk and lamp with him.

Remus briefly raised his eyes to the ceiling, counted to ten, then directed his wand at his long-time friend, who was struggling to disentangle tail and paws from the legs of the desk, and muttered a spell under his breath.

The huge black dog immediately turned into a toilet.

Smiling serenely, Remus turned back to the computer and continued on his quest.

***

"Got him," Remus said. A rather flustered Sirius, who had changed back from dog form a moment after his lapse into toilet-ness had been lifted, sprawled on the floor, glowering up at him. "Padfoot, you're looking..."

Struggling to sit up, Sirius pointed a warning finger at him. "You say flushed and I will hit you, Moony." 

"You know me too well," Remus chuckled, then motioned to the screen. "I've found out where our boy headed, or at least the town that he should be in, judging by the IP signatures of the area."

Blue eyes blinked. "Mind translating any of that for me?"

"We're going to America, Padfoot."

"Right! Let's go!"

There was a moment's pause.

"You do remember that America is on the other side of the world, don't you?"

"Yeah. And?"

"You do remember that there is a different timezone in play there?"

"Right, yeah, different timezone," Sirius repeated impatiently, looking like he was ready to apparate right there and then. "Can we just go?"

Pale eyes regarded him for a long moment. "Padfoot, they're on the West coast. It's two o'clock this morning there."

"And?" A pained look crossed Remus' face. "Oh! The full moon!" Sirius exclaimed in mortification. "Oh, crap! You shouldn't go through the change...not again, so soon, Moony. If you want to stay here, I could go myself, you know."

"Do I look that daft to you?" the werewolf responded with a tired smile. "You would go barrelling in there, wand blazing, screaming obscenities and blast everything to pieces even if Harry was standing right in front of you, perfectly fine."

Sirius cocked his head. "What are you implying?"

"What I'm implying is that I'm about to take a double dose of Wolfsbane potion and coming with you, to make sure you don't do anything stupid, and if you do, be the one there to get embarrassing photographic evidence."

"You're charming to the last, Moony."

Remus made an ironic little bow. "I thank you, kind sir," he replied, pushing up from the seat and releasing a sigh. "But now, I better get some of that potion and possibly a leash for you."

"A leash?"

"Oh come on, Padfoot," he replied. "You know as well as I do, you're the one who is likely to go running off and getting into all kinds of trouble. Even when I don't use the wolfsbane potion, I'm saner than you."

"You know," Sirius remarked, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I'm starting to think that you're trying to imply something about me being...irresponsible?"

"Heaven forbid, Padfoot. We all know how mature you are," Remus replied dryly, making his way towards the door. "And remind me to add a muzzle, tranquillizer gun and a sanity test to the things to find before we leave."

"Sanity?" Sirius wandered after him. "What's one of those?"

***

"Is it just me, or does this place feel...wrong, Moony?" A soft bark from the large werewolf crouching in the bushes beside him answered Sirius Black's question, as he looked out onto the street.

He had wondered how they were going to get away without being noticed, even if he did have Remus on a lead like a large, overgrown and rather demonic-looking pet dog, but now...

Now, that didn't look like it was going to be a problem.

The town seemed dead, or at least the area they were in, which struck him as very strange. Even in Hogsmeade, there would be people wandering the streets at all hours of the day and night.

This place, though...

It had an unnerving feel to it, the whole area they were in. It was like there was a bone-chilling aura spread over the whole town, pressing down on them, suffocating and eerie.

Remus pawed at his leg and Sirius looked down. The werewolf made a motion of sniffing out, then looked expectantly up at him.

"You think I should change forms and sniff around for Harry?"

As usual, when Remus was in wolf-form and under the influence of the wolfsbane potion, he was as rational and sensible as always. He nodded his massive, wolf-like head, pawing the ground impatiently.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" The werewolf raised its eyes to the night sky in a gesture that was pure, impatient Remus. "Don't you pull that face at me, Moony," Sirius groused. "I was just thinking it wouldn't be a good idea if we were both seen."

Dipping his head, Remus lifted up the lead in his fangs - which were far bigger than any dogs - and gave Sirius a look that said "And you honestly believe anyone will think I'm really your pet dog?"

"Good point," Sirius had to admit, removing the lead before shifting into his animagi form and shaking his heavy coat. He yelped in surprise when a cold nose nudged his rear and sniffed noisily. Sirius whipped around to find the wolf-face of Remus grinning at him.

Growling in mock-irritation, he swatted at Remus with and forepaw and padded onto the pavement. Raising his head, he sniffed the air, walking onwards down the road side, Remus walking alongside him.

While Remus was a werewolf, the unfortunate side-effects of the wolfsbane potion meant that he no longer had as keen wolfish senses, his human side coming to the fore in mind and spirit.

Sirius, however, in his animagi form, had all the abilities that his canine counterparts would have, including the very powerful sense of smell, which he was now taking advantage of.

Making their way through the streets, Sirius discomfort with the town only increased as they got deeper. Even in the middle of the town, it was almost deathly quiet, no one to be seen anywhere.

He shook his head at the sight of yet another cemetery.

This place wasn't big, but it really had a lot of dead people.

He paused, a breath of wind rushing across the fur of his face. It wasn't the wind that brought him up short, Remus colliding with him from behind, but the scent carried on the wind, a scent he would recognise anywhere.

Breaking into a run, he galloped in the direction that the wind had come from, the scent growing stronger as he sped onwards. He could hear Remus somewhere behind him, slowed down by the potion and his heavier form.

Skidding to a halt, Sirius raised his head again, following the scent a little more slowly, stumbling when the lip of the stone he was walking on went out from beneath him. The stone. The gravestone.

His head snapped up and he looked around in shock.

They were in a graveyard.

His Godson's scent was flooding outwards from a graveyard.

No...

Moving onwards, he tried to force down the sick, fearful feeling in his gut, as he made his way between the stones jutting out of the silvery grass all around them, eyes and nose taking in everything.

Sniffing along the edge of a mausoleum, he froze at the sight of a dark substance spilled on the grass beneath his paws, his eyes rising to see that same dark, dry fluid staining the pale stone of the crypt.

No...it...it couldn't be...

***

Finally, catching up with his friend, Remus was shocked by Sirius' posture, the huge black dog staring despondently at the side of a crypt.

Hurrying towards him, he made a barking sound, wishing he was able to voice the questions that he wanted to ask, Sirius turning towards him and shifting back into human form, his eyes bleak and angry.

"Blood. Harry's blood," he said, his voice a growl that would have sounded more fitting in his animagus form. "Someone hurt him."

Lupin's eyes narrowed at his friend. Are you sure, he wanted to ask, can you be one hundred percent positive? He padded forwards, looking down at the trail of dried blood that was sprinkled across the grass.

"No one hurts my Godson," Sirius snarled again.

Before Remus could think of any way to stop or reason with him, Sirius had changed back into his animagus form and was following the trail of blood, which seemed to lead out of the cemetery.

Trying to keep up, he lolloped along, wishing that he was a more streamlined variety of wolf. Perhaps something with longer legs and a leaner body, instead of the hefty, shaggy beast that he was.

Sirius was too quick for him to keep up with.

The enormous black dog ran onwards, pausing here and there to sniff, leaving Remus trailing in his wake.

Remus wished someone was there to see him rolling his eyes. He had told Sirius that he would bring a leash, jokingly, but now - more than usual - he wanted to be able to keep the huge black hound, which was his best friend, restrained.

He knew Sirius too well.

Sirius was impetuous and hot-tempered, especially when it came to protecting what remained of his near-adopted family, in the form of Harry.

Trotting along as briskly as he could, his tongue hanging out over his fangs, Remus eventually caught up with the big black dog in a long block of identical houses, the dog staring at one of them.

Panting, he flopped down heavily on his haunches beside Sirius, who was panting equally hard, and looked up at the house, which looked like the most normal kind of house imaginable.

Sirius' eyes were narrowed.

Nudging his friend with a massive paw, Remus whined, trying to convey some kind of reassurance to Sirius that Harry was probably fine.

Unfortunately, that just had to be the moment that they heard a cry from one of the upper windows of the house. 

Sirius' eyes widened and before Remus could grab at him with his jaws, the huge black dog bolted forwards, charging up the path towards the front door of the house, Remus dashing after him and hoping he wasn't about to do anything stupid.

Yells sounded from the house as the front door was smashed in by the huge black dog, which cantered up the stairs immediately, but Remus halted, his somewhat limited senses telling him that he didn't want to be the one to go up those stairs.

Even if Sirius was ignoring it, there was no way that the cry they heard was one of any kind of bad pain.

Sinking down on his belly on the patio, Remus whimpered in embarrassment at the thought, covering his eyes with his paws and waiting for the inevitable...

***

"Sirius!"

Buffy sat back from her lover, her hands on his chest, a slightly surprised expression on her face at his exclamation. "Uh, Harry, I don't know what kind of relationship you have with your Godfather..."

"No..." he gasped, his face going a furious shade of crimson. He was staring beyond her, at the door. One hand rose and pointed behind her and Buffy looked over her shoulder, a sound of confusion escaping her.

A big black dog that had been standing there when she turned rapidly materialised upwards into a black-haired, blue-eyed man, who was staring at her, a utterly shocked expression on his face.

Yanking up a sheet to cover her body, with a squeal of embarrassment, she felt the colour rising in her face. Hiding her face hastily in Harry's shoulder, she heard him groan in disbelief and mortification.

"Um..." the man said. "I...er...you must be Buffy...nice to...er...meet you..."

Buffy could practically feel Harry's embarrassment escalating to exceed her own, her face buried in his shoulder.

"Sirius," Harry said in a very calm and controlled voice, although she could feel him shaking beneath her. His arms had somehow ended up around her, pulling the sheets up to shield her. "This really isn't a good time for introductions."

There was a moment of silence and then the guy seemed to take the hint.

"Oh. OH!" Tilting her head, Buffy glanced back at him through the curtains of her hair, as the man hastily started backing out of the room. "Sorry! Didn't realise! Didn't think I was interrupting anything! You go on...have fun...well, not fun, but...enjoy yourselves and..." he paused. "Did you use protection?"

"Sirius!"

"I-I...I'll just be going...now..." the man said, sounding a little sheepish. "Nice meeting you! Bye!"

The door closed with a firm bang behind them and Buffy slowly lifted her face from Harry's bruised chest, biting down hard on her lower lip to stop herself from bursting out laughing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my Godfather," Harry grimaced. "Sorry about him...he has this wonderful thing called bollocksed-up-timing and I know I-I really should have told him I was coming here and...er...well," A richer blush flooded his face as he mumbled. "And...er...coming here."

Buffy giggled. 

She couldn't help it. 

Harry was looking so utterly flustered and embarrassed by the invasion of his Guardian and on top of that, he was using rather kinky wording, which was so odd coming from him, but made him even sweeter.

"At least," she decided, as the giggles rapidly became laughter. "It wasn't Snape."

Green eyes blinked owlishly at her, then Harry's face broke into a grin. "Yes, that is a bloody good thing, too," he replied, raising a hand to cup her face. "But I can't ignore my Godfather's one piece of decent advice."

"And what's that, Mister Potter?" Buffy asked, spreading her hands on his chest.

In reply, he kissed her again.

***

"Hold it right there, Mister!"

Sirius froze at the top of the stairs, the half-grin at seeing Harry in such an awkward situation melting away instantly, the triad of teenagers at the bottom of the staircase making his mouth fall open in surprise.

A crossbow was aimed at his chest by a tall, slim brunette girl. A dark-haired young man was hefting an axe from hand to hand and looked like he would happily separate Sirius' head from his body, given the chance.

It was the third one who really brought him up short, though.

Fragile-looking, with silky red hair and creamy skin, she looked like she would be knocked over by a breath of wind, but the aura of power rippling out from her was absolutely phenomenal, more concentrated than anything he had felt before. 

"Er..."

"Wanna tell us who you are, buddy? And the deal with the big dog? Where'd'it go?"

Sirius' mouth went bone-dry at the dangerous tone in the boy's voice, the way he was hefting the axe suggesting that he knew how to use it. Reaching into his pocket, he found his wand and started to withdraw it.

"Come," the red-haired girl snapped, raising a hand.

Sirius yelled in surprise and fright when his wand was jerked out of his grasp by an invisible force and flew straight to the red-haired girl, who caught it and gave it a cursory look.

"Need something?" she asked in a cold tone that the wizard really didn't like. "If you wanna keep that hairy hinney of yours in one piece, I think you should bring it down here and tell us just what the hell you want."

"I-I think I would rather stay up here."

"Don't make me cranky, mister," the red-haired woman snarled, her green eyes flashing dangerously. "I can get you down here by force if I wanna. I'm giving you the choice to do it the easy way or the hard way."

Sirius swallowed hard.

Something in her stance and the apprehensive looks on the faces of the two flanking her suggested that it would probably be a lot safer and wiser to do whatever she said and then some.

Raising his hands in surrender, he started down the stairs. "Sorry about the front door," he mumbled awkwardly. "I thought that something bad was happening to my Godson and I had to help."

"Godson? You think we're gonna fall for that?" the young man asked, shifting with a little too much eagerness with his axe.

"Omigod!" the brunette girl gasped. "You're Sirius, right? Sirius Black?"

"Um...yes?"

The crossbow was lowered instantly. "It's okay, you guys!" she said eagerly. "This is Harry's Godfather!"

"And?" the man maintained his grip on the axe.

"Xander," the dark-haired teenager rolled her eyes, grabbing the large axe from his hands and pulling it away from him. "He's not a big bad! He was just worried about Harry is all."

The red head looked from the girl to Sirius with suspicion. "Is that true?"

"Yes, although sometimes I wish it wasn't," All of them turned to the top of the stairs, where Harry was standing, pulling his T-shirt on over a very bruised chest. "He has the worst timing in the world."

"You didn't tell us where you were going, you little pillock," Sirius exclaimed, torn between running up the stairs and hugging his Godson for being all right, running up the stairs and punching his Godson on the nose for not telling him where he was going or just staying put and glaring.

"I said a friend's and that was where I was," Harry grinned broadly, as Buffy joined him, both of them looking equally mussed. "You didn't have to come running over here and breaking in like a lunatic."

"Which is what Moony said I would do..." Sirius mentally slapped himself across the back of his head. When would he ever learn to listen to his friend.

A little bark of agreement echoed through the front door and Sirius looked around to find Remus sitting there, his wolf-grin in place, his bushy tail wagging from side to side, brushing on the patio.

"A...a werewolf?" the brunette girl stared at him. "Is...is that Professor Lupin?"

"How is she knowing all this stuff and we aren't, Buffy?" Xander, the youth with the axe, demanded.

Sirius looked at Harry, who was descending the stairs with one of Buffy's hands held in his, the same question in his eyes, then understood. "The books," he said, half-to-himself. "The girl read the books."

"Yuh-huh," the girl grinned broadly.

The youth and the red-haired woman both looked confused.

"When are we gonna get to the explanations, Buff?" Xander asked.

"Ditto what he said," the red head agreed.

"And why are you holding Harry's hand?"

Buffy and Harry exchanged looks. "Maybe we should all sit down?" she said, looking through to the lounge. 

"Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" Sirius inquired, looking at the red head who had voiced the statement.

She gave him a look. "We're gonna get the full story and usually when that happens, it means that we've got a big bad to deal with and I'm so not ready for dealing with big bads right now."

"No, no big bad!" Buffy interrupted. "Just a lot of stuff that everyone has to know about everyone else in this room." Remus whined. "And you too, Mr Lupin," she said, motioning them all towards the sofa and chairs. 

Once everyone was settled, Remus curled up comfortably on the rug in front of the fireplace, Buffy perched on the arm of the couch beside Harry, her leg resting against his, she sighed, "This could take a while."

***

"You said there was no such thing as a Slayer! You were wrong!"

Harry pulled a face at his smirking Godfather. "Yes, I was wrong, all right?" He looked up at Buffy, who mussed his hair with a grin. "Very wrong."

"It would kinda ruin the secret identity thing if everyone knew about it," Dawn put in cheerfully from Harry's other side. "And its kinda neat! I'm the only one who knew all this stuff before anyone said anything!"

"Oh yeah, you're wonderful," Buffy rolled her eyes and Dawn stuck out her tongue.

Harry couldn't help laughing. "You two are mad," he decided. 

"Hey, you're the one that fell in love with Buffy."

A startled silence fell.

"Oops...probably wasn't meant to mention that."

Sirius cleared his throat. "So it wasn't just a shag, then?"

"Sirius!"

"That would be a no," Buffy answered with a grin in Sirius' direction. "That would have been perfect, except some great big black dog-guy decided to come running into the room and ruin the mood."

"I thought you were killing him!"

Buffy gave Harry a wicked look that made his eyes widen. "I was...my way."

Harry went scarlet and mumbled something under his breath, the back of his neck feeling very warm.

"So what are you gonna do, then?" Xander asked, still studying Harry with deep suspicion. "If he's in love with you, Buff, are you gonna send him away before he goes all Spike-y on you?"

"No," she answered, one hand on Harry's shoulder as she looked at her friend. "Its different with Harry."

"Uh-huh. How?"

"I love him."

"Omigod! I knew it!"

Harry's arm around her waist tugged gently and he pulled Buffy down into his lap, as her sister squealed, bouncing up and down excitedly on the couch. Xander looked shocked and Willow had a serene smile on her face.

"What are we going to do?" he asked her in a soft voice.

"Get by, I guess," she replied, gazing at him, her expression torn. "Is there any way that you could... y'know...kinda stay here? With me?"

"Only if you don't want me to leave," he said honestly. 

"I don't," she whispered. "I really, really don't, but you work at that school-place with Remus and I can't take you away from your work anymore than I can leave my work here."

"Buffy," he actually laughed. "I'm a wizard. I can apparate from here to England in less than a minute. If I stayed here, I could keep working at Hogwarts, although it'd be from one o'clock until nine o'clock in the morning here."

Buffy stared at him, a look of delight rapidly spreading across her face. "You...you can really stay here? You want to? I mean, you want to stay here? With me? With all of us?"

"I wouldn't leave unless you threw me out," he answered, smiling. "And we'll be working at the same time, you on Slaying and me on...trying not to be slain by teenage wizards and witches. That is, if you want mpphf..."

"EW! Get a room! Ick! Harry-kissing! It was bad enough seeing Riley smooching!"

"Does this mean that he's staying here?" Xander moaned.

Sirius exhaled a sigh. "Well, at least we know we have someone who can whip him into shape and make sure he does as he's told. And she happens to have a very nice arse on her," a few yells and the sounds of various objects hitting Sirius punctuated this remark.

Pulling apart a little, Buffy touched Harry's cheek, ignoring the others making kissy noises around them. "Never leave me," she whispered.

"You'd have to kick me out first."

"Hey, I could do that for you," Xander cut in.

"Xander!" Willow and Dawn both turned their tirade on the youngest man.

In the moment that the rest of the little group were distracted, Harry gathered Buffy to him and murmured, "Marry me?"

Hazel eyes flashed with delight. "Gimme time to decide if I like the side of the bed you sleep on first," she replied, mussing his hair again, before planting another kiss on him, her arms sliding around his neck.

An odd crunching noise came from the direction of the fireplace, but Harry and Buffy didn't bother looking around.

"It's very romantic, isn't it?" Remus Lupin's voice said amiably. "Two young people in love. Almost makes you want to be sick with sweetness poisoning," There was a pause, in which Dawn's hysterical giggles got a little louder. "Oh and I'm naked."

Buffy jerked around in Harry's lap, out of the kiss, and received a broad grin from the definitely very naked non-werewolf. Sirius had his hands over Dawn's eyes and Willow was biting her lower lip to smother a giggle.

Remus, still smiling, got to his feet and held out a hand, which Buffy automatically shook, although rather...distracted. "Nice to meet you, Buffy," he said, his light eyes twinkling. "I'm Harry's other uncle. If you're thinking about getting involved with Harry, now would definitely be a good time to back out."

"And...uh..." A cushion was pushed into her hand and Buffy handed it to Remus, who gave her a polite grin and positioned it over his groin. "And why would it be a good time to back out?" she managed to ask.

"Because," Remus' smile widened. "You'll be related to Sirius and I."

Buffy blinked several times. "Oh God..." was all she could think of to say.

"My mad family...deal with them and you'll land yourself in a loony bin before the years out. Ready to run screaming now?"

"I've faced demons, vampires, evil in all kinds of shapes and forms, apocalypses, Hell-goddesses, rogue Slayers, opening of the Hellmouth, wiggy friends, wiggier boyfriends," she gave him a proud look. "I can face anything."

"Except my Godfather and uncle," Harry chuckled.

"Uh," Buffy gave him a small smile. "Yeah."

"Good thing we're going to be living in a different country, then, eh?" Sirius said.

"I'll say," Remus added, looking down at himself. "I'd hate to live in a country where people class a pillow as a piece of clothing!"

Buffy moaned and buried her head in Harry's shoulder. "Kill me now."

"Again?" he quipped

Buffy raised her eyes to him. "If it mean that we don't have to be related to either of them, yes." Harry just laughed and kissed her brow as she snuggled against him. "I always get stuck with weird families," she muttered. "Every time."

Sirius and Remus just exchanged knowing grins. Their little boy was all grown up and had himself a nice bird, who he looked happy with and she had friends who were all as mad as they were.

Things couldn't have really worked out much better.

~~~~~~

Or could they?

~~~~~~

If you liked that ending, don't read on.

~~~~~~

Remember I hate this story!

~~~~~~

Don't say I didn't warn you!

~~~~~~

As our wonderfully romantic mushfest comes to a sappy (and none-to-soon) close with the lighting softening and everyone exchanging happy/dreamy/stoned-on-too-much-sweetness looks, a nigh visible heart with shimmering pink outline hovers around the faces of our hero and heroine.

The scene freezeframes and Buffy and Harry stare longingly into one another's eyes in a way that suggests "I'm going to shag you senseless over the back of the couch the minute we can move again".

And, for no reason whatsoever (aside from the author's near-obsessive need to perv on him) Spike leans around the heart shape floating around our hero/heroine's heads, looking yummy and fiendish in his black and red outfit.

"I'm not really dead," he says, grinning widely and showing those lovely vampire teeth for all too see. "Or chipped. And as soon as the credits start rolling, I'm going to kill everyone in this bloody thing."

On the opposite side of the heart, an equally devilish, light- and long-haired fiend leans around the frame, holding a very interesting-looking cane headed with a silver serpent, a smirk on his lips.

"And I'm here," he says, "Because the author likes my damn fine arse."

Both evil fiends exchange the wickedly evil smirks that they are so good at.

And herein, the author swoons.

The screen goes black and credits and a homicidal rampage (what? you expect me to respect the fluff?) ensues, out of sight and mind, and the author lives on, happy and sane and knowing she will never again write such a piece of sugar-filled, cheese-coated corn.

**The End**.

(Thank GOD!)


End file.
